You're Not Here
by ElisiansBane
Summary: After Yuuri's death, Wolfram is forced to find a new spouse. He enacts a law that allows him to remain single for the rest of his life. But on the way back from the ritual the law entails, he is attacked by thieves and is saved by Adelbert. NOT WxA!
1. Chapter 1

Hey it's ElisiansBane here with another Kyou Kara Maou story. I'm on a roll aren't I? This one is inspired by the Masters of Horror series on HBO. If you're a horror fan like me then you'll like this series.

Primary characters: Yuuri. Wolfram and Adelbert.

Rating M; For violence, and graphic sex (nonconsensual). I will place specific ratings for each appropriate chapter, mostly towards the end.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. I do own the third season, which I just like better than the other seasons.

Summary: After the tragic death of Yuuri, Wolfram is forced to find a new spouse. He goes against this by enacting a law that allows him to remain single for the rest of his life. But on the way back from the ritual the law entails, he is attacked by thieves and rescued by none other than Adelbert. But is Adelbert really looking out for his safety?

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Prologue

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The expression on Gisela's face was one of uncharacteristic dread as she walked out of the king's bedroom.

Wolfram stood, back against the wall picking at his nails in a futile attempt to keep his mind off the inevitable. He normally would have trained his face into a perfect mask of boredom. But this time, he could not, not with what was happening - _ending,_ inside that room from which the grim healer had just emerged.

He was flanked by his older brothers. They too, were trying their damnedest to hide the growing sorrow and panic that clawed at their insides, threatening to tear lose and cause all sorts of mayhem in the wake of what was to come.

"Lord Bielefeld," she called quietly.

The three princes looked up at her and Gisela's heart broke when she saw the identical expressions of sadness and helplessness that were so unusual for the battle-and-world-hardened warriors that stood before her, wishing, praying, and hoping that it would not be. That it could not be.

Their king was dying.

She looked steadily at the youngest prince, undoubtedly the most distraught of the three. He was dressed decently, but for those who knew the particular prince, he had dressed in a hurry. His pants were crinkled into his boots instead of folded, his uniform had two open buttons at the top and he was not wearing his cravat or the blue beads that held it together. His hair was slightly disheveled probably from worried fingers constantly pulling and running through it. His face was pale and sullen, his once bright green eyes were dull and glazed and had dark circles beneath them. He looked a mess, inside and out.

Gisela arbitrarily cleared her throat. "He wants to see you now."

"Just me?" The forlorn man asked, eyes glistening.

"Just you," she nodded.

Wolfram looked to his brothers for guidance, but they only gently pushed him towards the door. He slowly walked past Gisela and she courteously opened the heavy oak door for him.

He was taken aback by the strong smell of medicines and clean laundry that engulfed him as he walked to the bed. The room was dark, lit by only a few candles and the roaring fireplace that made the room unbearably hot and stuffy.

Yuuri was propped up by a huge mound of pillows, too weak to hold himself upright, the heavy blankets were pulled onto his lap and he was holding a tea cup and slowly sipping whatever concoction Gisela had given him.

He looked so different than what he had been. A vibrant, energetic, cheerful and kind young man with every promise the future could hold for him. So much potential, now reduced to a thin weak form doomed to a life in bed, forced to wait for the end and nothing to be done to stop it.

He looked so frail lying there, so pale that his black hair made a painful contrast from his skin.

Wolfram walked as if in a trance, part of him still denying that this was Yuuri, his strong bright fiancé, wasting away on the bed.

How could this have happened? How did one go from the peak of health to a sickly wraith in only a few weeks? How could such a common illness be the reason for so much suffering?

He had Valley Fever, Gisela had told them weeks ago, a common childhood illness among demons, akin to the common cold and a natural, expected part of growing up and once the person had it, the rarely ever got it again. It was almost never fatal.

Except for Yuuri, whose body had never experienced the common diseases of Shin Makoku and thus did not have a natural defense against the virus. His body did not know how to combat the sickness that ravaged his immune system and left it in shreds, left their king in intense myalgia, fever, delusions and nausea.

The disease had hit so suddenly, Yuuri was fine a few weeks ago, but then he began to complain of a headache that would not go away, then he became tired easily and then his health deteriorated from there at a pace that left even Gisela shocked.

They had tried everything, every medicine, magic and treatment they could think of to save their beloved king, but it no avail. They poked and prodded and administered until Yuuri himself had had enough and told them to leave him in peace.

Waves of guilt ebbed against Wolfram's psyche, he had Valley Fever in his seventies, Gwendal had it, Conrad had it, Gunter had it, even Gisela had it. To them, it was no big deal, a week in bed and plenty of liquids and that was it.

Did Yuuri get it from him? Did he get it from Gwendal or Conrad? They were no longer victims but carriers of the illness, it still existed inside them, but it could be passed on to someone with a weak immune system like Yuuri.

Yuuri, who had been staring at his reflection in the tea, weakly lifted his head when Wolfram finally reached the side of the bed.

"Wolf." He rasped, smiling affectionately at his long time friend and recent lover.

"Yuuri," was all Wolfram could think of to say. "How are you feeling?"

"Like hell. But not as bad as before, I guess." The double black answered cheerfully.

They sat there for an awkward moment, neither really knowing what to say. Should they talk about the weather? State business? The first seemed too frivolous and shallow a subject and the latter held a promise of a recovery that would not come.

"And how are you?" Yuuri asked pleasantly.

"I-I…don't know. I'm worried and tired." Wolfram admitted. Really, he didn't have the energy to put on a stiff upper lip. It just seemed stupid.

"Are you scared?"

Wolfram looked at Yuuri, surprised at the unusual question. He looked into black eyes that held so much depth and understanding. Is this what the eyes of the dying looked like?

"Yes." He whispered brokenly.

"I know." Yuuri smiled gently, he reached for Wolfram's hand and the blonde obliged him, firmly grasping those clammy fingers into his own cool hands. "I'm scared too."

Wolfram stared at their entwined fingers. Yuuri's hands were so white and cold. His nails were neat and Wolfram wondered if Yuuri would ever get a manicure. Yuuri had pretty hands, strong hands. Strangely feminine but very masculine in their conduct.

"What did Gisela say?" Wolfram asked those fingers, even though he already knew the answer.

Yuuri's expression became very sad and the last vestiges of light in those dark orbs faded.

"There's nothing to do."

"There has to be!" Wolfram exclaimed, unable to hide his fear and grief any longer. "There just has to be! You can't give up, Yuuri. You just can't. There must be other treatments! Other doctors! Someone!"

Wolfram's voice broke on the last word and he fought to hide the sobs that threatened to tear from his mouth.

_"Someone!"_ he choked.

Fighting back his own sadness, Yuuri reached for his blonde companion and pulled him into a gentle embrace, stroking his golden locks as he rested his cheek against his head.

That small gesture of comfort sent Wolfram over the edge, he broke down giving into his despair and clung to his beloved's thin form.

"It's going to be okay." Yuuri whispered against soft hair. "It's going to be okay."

"No it won't!" Wolfram wailed. "This can't happen! It isn't happening! I don't want you to-" He couldn't even bring himself to say that horrid word and instead sobbed into the cloth of Yuuri's nightclothes.

"I don't want to either, Wolf." Yuuri wheezed, it was becoming more difficult for him to hold back his own sobs. He never thought once in his life that he would succumb to illness during what should be the years of his prime. He was scared for himself, yes. But he was more scared for those he was leaving behind. Especially Wolfram.

"Yuuri, I'm begging you. Please hold on. Please fight it just a little longer. Maybe if we go to Earth they can help you. Just don't…..leave!" Wolfram whispered, he clung to Yuuri as if the younger man would dissolve away any second, never to be seen again.

Yuuri didn't answer. To answer would be to just repeat everything that had already been said. Yuuri was the only one who could travel between worlds. They needed his magic to cross dimensions safely. How could he travel to Earth or send someone when he was too weak to even sit up on his own?

They sat in silence. Only the sound of Wolfram's sobs broke the heavy quiet of the large room. Yuuri soon joined his fiancé, shedding tears of his own, allowing his fear and his grief to take over.

After a few minutes that seemed like hours, Yuuri dried his tears and gently pushed Wolfram away from him so that he could look into those glistening green eyes.

Cupping a wet chin with his hand, Yuuri gazed steadily into Wolfram's red, swollen eyes with gentle firmness.

"Wolfram." He said quietly. "There's something I need to give you."

Wolfram sniffed and wiped his tears away as Yuuri reached into the collar of his night shirt and pulled out his precious blue pendant.

"What is it?" Wolfram croaked, jumbled mind not quite registering the blue gem dangling in front of him.

"I want you to have this. To keep safe." Yuuri placed the jewel that had once belonged to his other self around Wolfram's neck.

Wolfram absently touched the cool stone that seemed to absorb the light around it.

"Why?"

Yuuri smiled wistfully. "As a reminder of me. Of our time together. I want you to keep the vision alive Wolfram. A world of peace and prosperity for demons and humans. I'm leaving that to you."

"Yuuri. I can't accept this. It means so much to you." He protested weakly. 'I don't need another reminder that you're leaving me.' he thought bitterly.

"You mean much more and I want you to have it." Yuuri said, smiling at him lovingly.

Wolfram wanted to rip it off and throw it across the room. He didn't want jewelry! He wanted Yuuri. He wanted his fiancé to get better. He wanted this to be a bad dream and he would wake up soon.

To accept this trinket would be to accept that Yuuri wasn't going to get better.

But he held it lovingly. To treat it as something less than sacred would be the greatest insult to Yuuri. And Wolfram would not have that. The necklace represented Yuuri, it represented his memory.

"Wolfram von Bielefeld." Yuuri's quiet steady voice cut into the blonde's thoughts. "Heir to the Bielefeld Family, son of the 26th demon king, honored soldier and fiancé to the 27th demon king, I hereby name you my successor, to carry on the vision and protect Shin Makoku and her people with your heart and life. Will you accept this?"

Wolfram stared in shock at his fiancé. He couldn't imagine anyone else but Yuuri ruling as king, he never wanted the role, he was content to remain at his lover's side, supporting him as _he_ ruled the kingdom. He nearly protested but the look in Yuuri's eyes silenced him and after a moment of resolution, he answered, tears sprouting new.

"Y-yes, I do."

Yuuri's smile widened and he placed his hand over the blue stone and Wolfram's heart.

"Then take this pendant as a symbol of your new position and all who see it will know that I have chosen you," Yuuri touched the pendant. "And as a symbol of what we have together."

Tears running freely, Wolfram nodded his head. "I will cherish it always. Forever."

Yuuri smiled and kissed Wolfram's forehead. "Thank you, Wolfram."

They paused for a few minutes, just enjoying the other's presence. Wolfram nestled himself into Yuuri's arms and was slightly ashamed that he was the one being comforted when in reality he was supposed to do the comforting. But Yuuri didn't seem to mind and only held Wolfram tighter as they sat upon the bed they had shared for years.

"Ne, Wolfram?" Yuuri said after a time.

"Yes, Yuuri?" Wolfram looked up from his spot in Yuuri's embrace.

"Can you do something for me?" Yuuri asked timidly.

"Anything, Yuuri."

"Sleep with me tonight? Not anything sexual." He explained when Wolfram stared at him oddly. "Just….sleep in the same bed with me. I…could use the company."

"Gisela won't like it."

"I know," Yuuri said. "But just this once. You've already had the fever, so you shouldn't be at risk or anything," Yuuri looked at his fiancé earnestly. "Please?"

Wolfram brushed aside a sweat-soaked black lock of hair and placed a gentle kiss against Yuuri's soft dry lips. "Of course. Anything for you, Yuuri. Always."

Wolfram was given the most beautiful smile he had ever seen on the double black. Yuri leaned forward to kiss him again and he returned the gesture eagerly.

They poured everything into that kiss. Wolfram poured his desperation, loneliness, grief and guilt and Yuuri his sadness, peace and comfort. Their lips moved, touched and consoled as their hands caressed each other, memorizing each curve and plane, engraving it into their memories.

Slowly leaning back, Yuuri pulled Wolfram down with him onto the soft pillows. He held the blonde tightly in his arms as they entwined their bodies. With a practiced hand, he removed Wolfram's outer jacket, while the blonde kicked off his boots and trousers and soon he was clad only in his thin black underwear and undershirt. Wolfram tucked himself under the blankets and cuddled up to his lover, head on Yuuri's chest, listening to the weak heartbeat underneath his skin.

Yuuri kissed Wolfram's blonde hair and stroked him as he would a pet. His grip tightened when a sudden coughing fit overtook him, but Wolfram didn't flinch, he only held on tighter as well.

There were no words shared between them. Everything they had to say had been said already and they had been together long enough to know what the other was feeling without words being spoken.

They lay there silent for some time, both lost in their own thoughts. Sleep would not come close to them for to fall asleep meant to hand over control of the future to a force that neither of them could comprehend or implore to follow their own selfish desires. The sunset and the candles burned out plunging the room into the calm darkness of night. Those they left outside didn't see fit to bother them. These last moments were meant for the two lovers alone, to spend one last evening in each other's arms, loving and comforting, to ease the passing of one life to the next.

The dawn of the next morning was heralded by a heartbreaking wail that echoed through the vast halls of blood Pledge. Those who heard it said it was the most painful sound on the world, a sound of the deepest sadness and loss that struck to the core and left the heart empty.

When Conrad, Gwendal and Gunter opened the door they were met with a sobbing blonde, clinging and rocking the lifeless body of the 27th demon king.

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Elisian! Why is it that when you have a favorite character you kill them off or torture them?

Because I can.

I'm like that little three year old in a daycare that bites other kids as a sign of affection.

What do you guys think? Good? Bad? Really sad? Let me know by clicking the little button that says review!


	2. Chapter 2

Hello, everyone! I am here with a new story! This one focuses on Adelbert and Wolfram and a terrible curse. This story is much simpler than The Haunting of Yuuri Shibuya. It's a short straightforward story, more adventure and eroticism than deep, thought provoking literature. I wrote it for fun and I hope you all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I don't own it, I just like to torture my fave characters from TV shows and anime but I never would make money off of the poor dears.

Warnings: none really for this chapter, except angst of the family kind. This is not beta read. You have been warned.

Pairings: Yuuri/Wolfram, Yuuri/Adelbert. Yuuri, Wolfram and Adelbert are the main focus of this story, other characters will make brief appearances in the first chapter and throughout the rest of the story, but they won't have a particularly significant role.

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You're Not Here - Chapter One: You're Mine Own.

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Never in all his life had he ever set eyes on something so painfully perfect.

Michael von Grantz had seen many beautiful faces, male and female, all different shapes and colors and expressions, but none could stand against the cold beauty that sat before him.

The wavy gold hair that caught the sunlight, the pale porcelain skin, the pink rosy lips that constantly pouted and puckered, a cute pointed little chin, a long soft neck that connected to slender shoulders draped in the deepest black cloth and the _body,_ the body was the stuff of erotic fairytales; thin and softly contoured, round hips, long legs hidden beneath snug clothing and narrow feet that clicked so chipper in black boots.

Truly, the twenty-eighth Demon King of Shin Makoku was a work of art.

The young king sat on a stone bench in the center of the royal gardens surrounded by blue and yellow flowers that seemed to accentuate his beauty further. His face was turned away from Michael, staring blankly into the distance, his mind a million miles away in the past and completely disinterested in the young lord's presence, more concerned with whatever was on his mind than his manners.

If it were anyone else, anyone less heartbreakingly attractive, Michael would have been offended. But he was so entranced by the loose curl of hair that tickled the nape of the royal's neck that he did not care and hoped that His Majesty's attention would stay distant for just a while longer so he could enjoy the sensual movement of that one yellow circlet of hair.

And to think, he had scoffed at the idea of courting the late twenty-seventh king's leftovers.

The being in front of him was too quiet; he had gone quiet ever since they had walked out of sight and earshot of the monarch's retainers and servants. As soon as they were a good distance from the others the King had dropped his small smile, his shoulders tensed and he began to walk ahead of Michael instead of next to him. He had walked for a time straight ahead on a predetermined path until he finally came to a stone bench and plopped down and then gazed into the distance, wordless and apathetic.

So Michael came to sit next to the king, silently focused on the young man while the king in turn focused on some distant thought. For once, the flirtatious lord was unsure of how to proceed with the young king. He had plenty of experience with the art of courtship and he was confident in his abilities to woo this aloof monarch. No one had refused the Lord Michael von Grantz, with his auburn hair and hazel eyes. His talent in poetry added to his charm. Maids and stable boys on his uncle's land threw themselves at him and did his bidding at the utterance of one of his smooth eloquent words.

He figured now was a good time to try his special talent on King Wolfram.

His soft, low voice cut through the silence. "Blue flowers pale in his wake. In awe of his face. The true meaning of beauty."

For the first time, Wolfram acknowledged the young lord's presence. He turned slowly and regarded Michael with boredom. Green eyes drilled into Michael's gold ones with an intensity that left the lord with the very foreign feeling of inaptitude.

Wolfram's lips pulled into a sneer. "Really? That's the best you could come up with? We've been sitting here all of twenty minutes and that's all you could put together? A half-assed _syllable_ poem?"

Michael was a little taken aback at the king's mockery. But, if anything, he was a man of quick recovery. He leaned slightly forward and gave his sweetest smile.

"Forgive me, if you found it displeasing, your Majesty. But words escape me and those that remain are lost when faced with the presence of your beauty."

"I'm sure…." Wolfram muttered dryly and turned his back on Michael to continue gazing into space.

Not to be discouraged, Michael leaned in to Wolfram, a cool smile on his face.

"I mean it, your Majesty. I have seen many faces, but none have so held me for so long as yours. And as we have continued our courtship, I have come to love other things about you."

"I would appreciate it if we skipped the romantic hogwash this time, thank you very much." Wolfram said curtly.

"What would you have me say then?" Even though his tone was meant to be playful, Michael couldn't help the slight annoyance that creeped into his voice.

"I would have you remain silent for another fifteen minutes, so they can at least believe that we spoke to each other." Wolfram said flatly.

Michael frowned. "Then wouldn't it make more sense for us to just talk about something?"

"No, it would not. Nothing you would say would be anything I'm interested in or haven't heard in the past year since they've been forcing me to do this every goddamn month."

"A king needs a proper consort, your Majesty. And your advisors think that we would make a good match."

"A good match for them." Wolfram said as he stared straight ahead.

"Maybe if you gave me a fair chance, we could be a good match for each other." To emphasis his point, Michael reached out to touch the coy little lock of hair, letting it curve around his finger and subsequently allowing him the brush his knuckle against the soft skin of his king's neck.

Wolfram slapped his hand way and sneered again. "I sincerely doubt that. You are the kind that would be satisfied with a warm body and content to let his handlers do the work and lead this country to god knows where."

"If you are going to criticize me, your Majesty, will you at least have the decency to look me in the eye? Or am I not worthy of your gaze?" Michael said, he was starting to lose his patience with the bratty monarch. "Do you really think you're that special that you can turn you nose at anyone who seeks your company? You can gripe and fuss all you want but we have been chosen for each other and there is little I and you can do to change it except move on to the next marriage prospect until you've gone in a huge circle and expended all your options."

"Maybe once I've expended all my options they will leave me be and let me rule this country in peace." Wolfram huffed.

"You know they'll just find others or reuse the old ones." Michael said. "So why bother? I can make you a good husband, your Majesty, if you will only give me a chance."

"Well, here it is and it's not working, so why beat a dead horse?" Wolfram abruptly stood up from the bench and turned to walk back towards the garden entrance.

"Your Majesty-"

"While your efforts were admirable," Wolfram said, voice cold as he began to walk away. "I fear that a union between us would be pointless. Thank you for your time and I will be there to see you off when you leave. Good day." Wolfram took two steps from Michael, when the lord caught his hand and stopped him.

"You need me –" Michael began, as he tried to pull Wolfram back to the bench.

Wolfram turned an icy glare onto his captor. "I might have considered you had you not openly flirted with my teenage daughter the night before. Actually, I wouldn't. But you really screwed up when you made advances towards my under-aged, innocent daughter. But you did and now I'm leaving."

Mouth curled in disgust, Wolfram yanked his hand free of Michael's grip and all the man could do was watch the retreating form of Wolfram disappear into the trees and flowers.

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As he had for every year of his adult life, Gwendal sat at his large desk trying to do paperwork. A stack of papers to the left and right of him and a half-composed letter sat in the middle waiting for him to finish it. His hand rested next to the paper, loosely holding a dried quill, while his other hand impatiently tapped the hard polished wood.

He sighed and turned to look out the large arched window behind him, even though he knew whatever he wanted to see had moved farther into the gardens, out of view from his three-story office window. He could see the little stone courtyard where he and his niece would have tea together every day located outside the East inner entrance of the palace, and beyond that the beginning of the Royal Gardens could also be seen and the iron archway that led to the main garden path. It was through this path that his youngest brother had disappeared into with the young Michael von Grantz, suitor number thirty-seven in a long list of potential nobles that the Aristocrats insisted that Wolfram choose from to be his Consort.

Quite honestly, he felt that it was too soon for Wolfram. His young brother had been struggling with his new roles as a king and a single parent for the past three years. He was much like Yuuri in the sense that his sheltered upbringing had not really prepared him for the difficulties that were associated with ruling a kingdom, especially one as vast and complex as Shin Makoku. And like Yuuri, Wolfram had tried to cope and adjust to his new position and try to establish himself as a capable ruler to varying degrees of success.

Gwendal sighed as he remembered the past events that had torn his family apart. Yuuri's death had sent a wave of sorrow and despair through the country and its allies. Many villages and towns held vigils and built small memorials to the fallen king, while Shin Makoku's allies sent their condolences and gave tributes to his family.

Those closest to Yuuri barely had time to mourn as they all struggled to maintain order and peace. Wolfram had to drag himself out of his grief and attempt to rule a bereaved nation and with the help of Gwendal. He had to train his thoughts and emotions into a calm stoic mask and be a source of strength to his people and help them get through their sorrow, even though he himself was falling apart on the inside. Gwendal took care of handling state affairs and took over most of Wolfram's duties, while Conrad tried his best to comfort Wolfram and Yuuri's daughter, Greta, because Wolfram was too busy being a ruler to be a father, Gunter oversaw funeral preparations. And somewhere in-between, they tried to come to terms with Yuuri's death.

Gwendal was aroused from his thoughts when the huge oak doors to his office were unceremoniously swung open to reveal a red-faced and annoyed Wolfram.

"What happened this time?" Gwendal asked dryly, returning to the document he had been ignoring for the past few minutes. Though he had an inkling of what happened.

Wolfram stood up to his full height and placed his hands on his hips. "I've had enough of these shenanigans. Each one more obnoxious and irritating than the last! If the Aristocracy insists that I marry, I would appreciate it if they took some time to actually screen these people before they waste my time." He complained.

Gwendal groaned. "What did he do?" It was the same shtick every time since Wolfram started being courted. He would date a noblewoman or man for a few days, act cold and aloof and the he would abruptly end the courtship citing some issue with the noble that had nothing to with anything really.

"He had the nerve to spew half-assed poetry at me as if I've never heard how damn pretty I am!" Wolfram leaned forward as he spoke as if it was the most scandalous and offensive thing he had ever experienced. 

"Oh no, not half-assed poetry." Gwendal's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Did he try to compliment your outfit too? The savage!"

Wolfram glared at his brother. "You could at least pretend to care! I'm being sexually harassed by low-lifers, pedophiles and slatterns. I'm being forced into marriage and you should be defending me!"

Gwendal put his dry quill back into its bottle. That will not be getting done anytime soon. He heaved another long-suffering sigh that coursed through his large frame.

"Wolfram." He began tiredly. "We've been over this - several times. The Aristocrats believe that you need a spouse who can help you in running the country. Should anything happen to you, there will be a person equal to you in power who can take over. It's the same reason every demon king and queen in the history of this country has gotten married. Stability and protection for the country. I feel like I tell you this everyday."

"But I don't want to get married! I'm doing just fine on my own! Why can't they see that?" his brother cried.

"Doing just fine, are you? Let's consult the giant pile of paperwork you have yet to finish." Gwendal turned and regarded the massive pile of dead trees on his desk. "Is his Majesty Wolfram handling his work well? No? Really? He just said he was handling things fine without any help whatsoever from anyone."

Wolfram looked at his usually un-acerbic brother. "You are not funny. And that's yesterday's paperwork. I did the day before that."

"And what about the day before that?"

"Taken care of."

"You made most of it into paper flowers."

"Like I said, taken care of."

"Wolfram, this isn't punishment." Gwendal explained, yet again. "No one's asking you to love the person or even be intimate with them, just find someone you can get along with and can help you run the country into prosperity instead of into the ground."

"It is punishment to me! You never gave Yuuri these problems! No one said a word about whether he needed to get married and they stayed out of his business." The young demon whined.

"Believe me." Gwendal said dryly. "They pried into other facets of his life. And marriage was never an issue because it was assumed that you two would eventually marry."

Gwendal suddenly regretted bringing that up when he saw the sorrowful look on his brother's face. After three years, Wolfram had never fully gotten over the death of his fiancé. Yuuri would always be Wolfram's fiancé before he was his king. Yuuri had and always will be Wolfram's one true love. It seemed that in death, Yuuri still had a vice-like grip on the young demon's heart and refused to release it. Or maybe it was the other way around.

To some it might have been romantic. To Gwendal and the rest of the aristocracy, it was rather troublesome. The role of king was a dangerous one and more often than not it was fatal. Kings and queens who went against the norm and preached peace and respect for one's fellow man or whatever it may, were especially vulnerable. The death of a monarch, whether it be premature or drawn out, accident or natural, was something that was prevented at all costs but still very much a given. It was not that Gwendal did not feel sympathy for his little brother. Quite the opposite. He could only imagine the pain that Wolfram must have endured and how it must have been especially hard for him when he was not allowed to openly grieve, for propriety's sake, at his own fiancé's funeral.

But no matter how much it felt like it, life didn't end with King Yuuri. There were still alliances to be made, kingdoms to protect, paper work to do, duty and obligation were always moving in linear fashion with or without the dead. It was something they had all had to come to terms with after they buried Yuuri's body in the Royal Mausoleum and with it their feelings. Except for Wolfram.

"Wolfram..." Gwendal began.

"No, no, it's all right…I know what you meant." Wolfram's lips tightened. "It's… just…I can't." He spoke the last word as if it were physically painful for him.

"I know this isn't what you want." Gwendal said comfortingly. "But you have to think of your duty, and with the current political situation and the murders, your marriage will give a sense of security to not just the nobility, but the people as well."

"But-but." Wolfram looked down at Gwendal's desk sadly. "I don't want to, I can't. Not after him, Brother. Yuuri was-"

"I know he was, Wolfram." Gwendal said softly, he reached across the flat surface to gently touch Wolfram's forearm.

"It isn't right!" Wolfram cried, suddenly tearing away from the comforting touch. "How can I move on? How can I pretend to love someone else when I loved him truly? How can I insult his memory like that?" Wolfram swallowed back tears. "Tell me, brother!"

Gwendal stood from his chair and grasped Wolfram's shoulders, forcing the young man to look him in the eye. "I can't tell you that, Wolfram." He spoke slowly and deliberately. "I can only tell you that clinging to old memories will only cause you to suffer more and when the king suffers, the people suffer and Yuuri would not have wanted that for you or for Shin Makoku. Listen to me, you have to let him go eventually, but you can't hold on forever. This is part of life."

"I don't want to let go!" Wolfram cried. "I don't want to let go!"

Wolfram shoved Gwendal's large hands off his shoulders like they suddenly burned him and ran from his brother's office. Gwendal could only look on in silent despair as the door was savagely slammed shut and the sounds of running footsteps faded into the hallway.

Gwendal sat down hard in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain effort to stave off the headache that chipped at his skull. That did not go well, but really what did he expect? They seemed to have a similar exchange after every suitor was rejected and Gwendal was forced to explain, again, that finding a consort was not about love, a royal marriage was rarely about love. Wolfram was spoiled on the fact that he had experienced love where most experienced apathy and tolerance.

Gwendal wondered how he could sensitively and politely inform his youngest brother that the Aristocrats and the other nobility didn't give a damn about his feelings. It was cruel and sad, true. But that was politics.

Gwendal let his head fall into the back of his seat and he stared at the ceiling. He examined the intricate designs and wondered who the hell thought that was a good idea. It just seemed like wasted money to put gold designs on a roof that no one would think to look up and admire - a blatant display of unnecessary opulence.

His scrutiny was interrupted by a firm knock on the door. Lifting his head like a great weight, Gwendal glared at the entrance with contempt.

"Enter." He said gruffly, sitting up right and picking up his abandoned quill, creating the illusion of preoccupation.

The door creaked open to reveal Gwendal's other brother, Conrad. The pensive expression on his face had replaced the customary calm smile three years ago. Conrad rarely smiled anymore. He walked into the room with silent purpose; a sharp contrast from Wolfram's barging in.

"Hello, brother." He greeted Gwendal with a nod. Gwendal noticed that Conrad held a bunch of papers in his hands. Field reports no doubt.

"What do you have?" Gwendal extended his hand to take the papers from the other man.

Conrad eyes went dark and he frowned deeply. "It's another one. This time, the victim is Anissina's second cousin. Marcus von Karbelnikoff went missing during a ride outside the Tubsberry Village three days south of the capital. Some villagers say that they witnessed him entering the forest around four. He was reported missing by seven. There have been multiple search parties but none have found any clues to his whereabouts. It's as if he disappeared into thin air."

"Like the others…" Gwendal mumbled as he leafed through the reports that confirmed his brother's words.

"That's the ninth one, Gwendal…" Conrad said quietly. "Each one a member of the Ten Aristocratic families. That leaves.."

"That leaves Bielefeld…" Gwendal rested his chin on his clasped hands. He shuffled some of the papers around arbitrarily, deep in thought. "Did you notify Waltorana?"

Conrad nodded. "We sent a notification to the Bielefeld territory this morning. Telling him to employ more guards and look out for any suspicious persons."

"Good. Any leads on the culprit?"

Conrad shook his head. "None whatsoever. There are no witnesses or none that have come forward. No one has seen anything out of the ordinary. It's like the victims never existed."

"We will have to keep a closer eye. Post more guards. Add more patrols. Inform the Aristocrats to do a head count of their remaining relatives, make sure everyone is accounted for and forbid anyone to travel alone. "

"Yes, brother."

"Have we heard of anything from His Eminence?"

"He is currently on Earth. He is visiting his late Majesty's family."

Gwendal's gaze softened very slightly. "Yes…" He mumbled, staring into the distance. "It's about that time of year for them isn't it?"

"The third anniversary of his Majesty's passing." Conrad

"Every year it seems that instead of moving on, those closest to him seem to only fall deeper into their grief…" Gwendal muttered.

He didn't have to say anything for Conrad to realize who 'those closest' to Yuuri were.

Conrad nodded. "He's….been struggling lately. It is as if he has lost touch with himself."

"He rejected number thirty-seven a while ago."

"Can you really blame him?" Conrad said sadly. "How can he give himself to another when he had dedicated so much of his heart and mind to one person? Really, Gwendal? "

Gwendal sighed. "It's not that I don't feel sympathy for him. I honestly can't stand seeing him like this. Forlorn and aloof, barely able to care for his own daughter much less run a country the way it should be. But, remaining sad and bereaved his whole life will never bring King Yuuri back or bring Wolfram peace. He's just torturing himself now." Gwendal slumped back into his chair, at a loss for what to do about his little brother and about these bizarre disappearances.

"We can only wait now." Conrad continued. "We can only help Wolfram so far as he lets us."

"Yes." Gwendal conceded. "But I hope it's soon. There is still a country and duties to be followed."

"You are right."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * RM * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wolfram burst into Yuuri's - his room, and flung himself onto the huge royal bed. He savagely ripped off his royal robes leaving him clad in only his undershirt and pants. He cursed the sunlight that streamed in through the open curtains for making the world appear cheerful when he himself despaired.

With a huff, Wolfram pushed himself off the bed and stalked over to the offending curtains and brutally yanked them shut, nearly ripping them off with the sheer force of his arms. He went back and collapsed back onto the bed and buried his face into the plump down pillow and had himself a good solid cry.

Wolfram cursed again. Why him? Why had he been forced into this? What had he done to make them think that he was incapable of leading on his own? Why did Gwendal have to bring up his ill-fated relationship like that? Why?

Did they think he had not tried to move on? For the sake of himself and his daughter, Wolfram had tried his damnedest to move on with his life and not let Yuuri's death be his death as well. He had blocked his emotions and his thoughts long enough for him to coordinate his fiancé's funeral. He had remained stone-faced and stoic throughout the entire ceremony as they closed the heavy wooden casket, barely giving him time to look upon the face of his love one last time.

Still he had not thrown himself onto the coffin like he wanted to, he didn't sob and beg them not to take his Yuuri away like he wanted to, he didn't scream how much he wanted to follow the double black into the next life like he wanted to. He hadn't done anything he wanted. He had stayed, still as a statue as they lowered his husband-to-be into the giant underground vault that held the bodies of every demon king that had ruled since the time of Shinou.

Wolfram kept the stone mask on his face through the reception, through the well-wishers and sympathizers. He had stayed strong for his weeping daughter as she clung to his side, begging him for comfort, not to leave her too. He had held her and he had promised, and he meant to keep that promise. For Yuuri. He held fast until the very end, late at night when he was finally granted a chance to unleash the chaotic emotions that had toyed and tormented him through the entire ordeal and he had collapsed, just like now, onto the bed that still held Yuuri's scent. He inhaled deeply and he screamed, his pain echoing off the bed frame and melding into the sheets.

Like now.

If Yuuri had not named him his successor. If it had not been his dying wish. If he had not been crowned the new demon king. If his jackass of an uncle had not pushed so damned hard for a Bielefeld to inherit the throne, Wolfram would have gone the path of many a fiancé and spouse who had outlived their king. The life of a recluse. He would have been left alone and allowed to go back to the land of his family and live in relative peace and not be forced to remarry or court anyone. He would have been allowed to vent his emotions and not hide them to save face or something stupid like that. He would have had peace.

But that was 'if' and 'if' did not happen. He was king and he had not been allowed to grieve the way that he wanted. He hadn't been allowed much of anything.

And it hurt and it continued to hurt. Every day felt like he was moving farther away from Yuuri and the precious memories he had of him. Wolfram scared himself one day when he realized he had forgotten Yuuri's birthday. A date that he previously had never forgotten, would never forget for the world. That frightened him because if he forgot Yuuri, he forgot everything that was truly important to him.

Which is why he could never choose a mate. He belonged to Yuuri now as much as he had when he was alive. And every man and woman that came sauntering in, thinking they had a chance, only made him feel like he was committing an act of betrayal against the dead king. They were all cheap replacements for something he had cherished and would never experience again. It made him sick to think they and the Aristocrats thought Yuuri could be replaced in his heart.

Slowly, Wolfram reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out the blue pendant that Yuuri had worn until his last breath. It was the same pendant that Conrad had given him that once belonged to Julia, Wolfram's former tutor. Now it was his, left to him by his fiancé as a symbol of Wolfram's new position as his successor.

That pendant became Wolfram's everything, the last true proof that Yuuri had lived and loved him. It was his life, his heart, it brought Yuuri close to him and he felt less lonely when he held the blue stone in his hand, just the fact that Yuuri often fingered the jewel and never took it off made it all the more important to him. Wolfram could not think of the pendant without thinking of Yuuri and vice versa. He had seen the pendant dangling above him when they made love. He could not bring himself to imagine himself lying on the bed he had shared with Yuuri for four years, giving himself to another person. It felt like infidelity and he would not be a part of it!

A thousand different ideas swirled around Wolfram's tired head as he tried to desperately figure out how he could get out of being engaged. He thought of everything even the painful solutions like castration that could keep him from being desirable for anyone. He thought and thought and thought and finally through the haze of his tears, it came to him!

Wolfram slowly lifted his head from the pillow, peering blindly through the wet and messy curtain of his blonde hair as the idea evolved in his mind and for the first time, he felt like he had a choice.

There was an old law he had read about in one of his textbooks from the military academy. An ancient law so old that most had forgotten about it and many a king's advisors were sure to keep it that way.

Wolfram and Yuuri had been intimate for a year before Yuuri's death. That meant in the bluntest of terms, that Wolfram belonged to Yuuri, in body and in mind and the court recognized it that way. After having experienced the affections of the King, who ruled by divine right in the eyes of the Great One, Wolfram was deemed untouchable by the others and therefore ineligible for a second engagement or marriage to a mere mortal.

He would take a vow of celibacy as the late king's fiancé. Usually, such a vow was taken by spouses of the kings, but Wolfram was sure he could twist and turn the law to suit his needs.

It would not be easy, no not at all. He would have to do it in secret and before anyone could stop him. Once the vow was taken and since the law was technically still active, he would be left alone and could rule on his own, "married" to his late king's memory and to his country.

Wiping his tears, Wolfram leapt off the bed and rushed to his bookshelf and quickly pulled several history volumes left over from his academy days. After flipping, scanning and discarding several books, he finally came across the law in his Advanced Political Theory book.

The vow had to be approved and overseen by the High Priestess, in this case Ulrike, and it would involve a short ceremony and required three witnesses that could not be any of the temple maidens. Easy enough, Wolfram could order three of his men to follow him.

Wolfram looked out the window, judging by the position of the sun, it was almost four, that meant dinner would be served by seven. That gave him three hours. The temple was a four hour ride round trip. Including the time of the ceremony and the time it would take to convince Ulrike to conduct the ceremony, he could be back around eight or maybe later.

Maybe he should do it tomorrow? No, Wolfram shook the thought from his head. He would do it today, no matter how silly it seemed. That way he could make the announcement tomorrow at the meeting with the Aristocrats and be done with the endless stream of unwanted suitors once and for all! Now before he lost his nerve!

Mind set firm, Wolfram fixed his messy blond hair and changed into his peasant clothes that he had not worn in years. He fastened his sword to his side and moved stealthily into the hallway and towards the stables.

'I'm sorry, Yuuri. I know you wanted me to be king, and I will uphold that wish. But I will do it alone. It can only be you, Yuuri. Only you.'

* * * * * * * * * * YNH * * * * * * * * * *

Well, there it is, Chapter one of You're Not Here. This is actually a different version of the original story. This takes the same concept as the original Requiem Mass (which has a more complex plot and different characters and is way longer).

My initial hesitation with this story is the dramatics. Even though I rewrote and edited several parts of this chapter, I still had difficulty channeling Wolfram's emotions. I felt that someone as passionate as Wolfram would not be able to truly move on and commit to another relationship, especially after a deep spiritual bond with another person. Also, mind you, The Aristocrats are trying to get Wolfram to marry just anyone with a high rank, they don't care how well they get along if at all..

In one of my college courses, we studied the grieving process. We learned that in our society, people are given way less time to grieve than they truly need. Psychologists have found that it takes an entire year at least for a person to fully complete the grieving process. That's in the case that the person is allowed to grieve properly. Now what is proper grieving is up to the person. But if the person is not allowed to grieve and go through the process of coping and sadness or is constantly forced or told not to express their grief, the process does not complete and the person is never fully at peace. This can draw out the grieving process to several years and leave the bereaved person in a weakened emotional state and drive a person to an extreme act.

So in Wolfram's case, his coronation came very shortly after Yuuri's death and as the new king he was expected to lead the country in grieving, but he himself could not grieve for it would be a show of weakness in front of the people and create instability and insecurity among the people. He was expected and forced to internalize his own sorrow and his feelings were never addressed or dealt with properly, which has left him bitter and unable to move on.

Well that's my explanation, I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter. Please don't forget to review, your comments help me be a better writer.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter two of You're Not Here.

Disclaimer: I still don't own it. Would I be here if I did?

* * * * * * * * * * * YNH * * * * * * * * * *

For the first time in three years, Wolfram felt a sense of control and peace over his own existence. For a moment, he had regained some of his old tenacity and taken charge of his own person, reclaimed his self from the influence of the court and his brothers. He seized that moment of boldness and in the end he came out a new man, with a new direction, and a new command of his life.

Wolfram smiled as he gently rode his white stallion, flanked by three of his trusted men. Wolfram sent out a silent blessing to the soldiers, who had been dragged from the barracks while on break and made to ride on some wild whim of their captain. Perhaps it was the determined fire in Wolfram's green eyes that swayed them, maybe it was the spark of life that had been absent for so long in their captain that led the men to indulge him on this "ride" as he had called it. Wolfram didn't know why, nor did he really care, they had come and they had stood as witnesses as Ulrike reluctantly performed the ceremony that accompanied Wolfram's sacred vows.

Wolfram lovingly fingered the pendant that dangled above his chest and glistened in the waning sunlight. Sunset in the summer fell around eight o'clock in Shin Makoku and darkness fell across the land by eight forty-five. Wolfram was pleased that the ceremony had only taken about fifteen minutes, after the twenty minutes it took for him to persuade Ulrike to conduct the ritual.

Wolfram touched the center of his chest, where Ulrike had tattooed the symbol of the vows across his pale skin. It was small and simple; an arcane set within a circle - a symbol of protection and absolute devotion to a single being.

It had taken so long to convince Ulrike to conduct the ritual that for an instant Wolfram was almost certain she would turn him away and then alert his brothers. But eventually, Wolfram was able to incite her pity and she relented. She had been stern - the ritual could not be undone and he could never take another lover again. To do so would be the greatest act of blasphemy against both Shinou, before whom he swore his vows, and to the memory of Yuuri. The punishment would be severe and unforgiving.

Wolfram's fingers traveled to the little blue pendant that dangled about his neck, when he touched it, he felt that he was touching Yuuri across some transcendent space and time. He wondered if Yuuri could feel him holding his necklace in his hand, this physical symbol of their bond.

"Your Excellency?" His subordinate's timid query roused his attention.

"Yes?"

The soldier hesitated for a second. "Your Excellency." He began again. "Are you sure this was the right decision? I mean… you didn't talk to Lord Voltaire at all."

Wolfram's eyes narrowed dangerously. He did not like to be questioned, especially by one of his own men, and on such a personal matter.

"I have decided that this was the best choice given the situation. It is my life and therefore my choice what I do. I'm doing this to honor my fiancé's memory and for myself. Nothing more. And no one can say anything about it!" Wolfram said curtly.

The soldier went quiet and looked worriedly at the other soldiers who wore the same concerned look as he did. They were well aware of the fact that their captain was not the type to think things through before acting on his impulses. They were still confused as to what exactly their captain had just done and made them be witnesses to. They were only given finite details before they were ordered to saddle their horses and follow him to Shinou's Temple. They had stood in bewildered silence as Lord Bielefeld argued with the Shrine Priestess and then go through the odd ceremony that gave him a weird tattoo, and left their captain happier than he had been for years. It was a little unnerving.

"But, your Excellency." The soldier continued. "Why go so far? There must have been another way."

The dark look his captain gave him forced the soldier to stifle a yelp. "Because." Wolfram answered as if explaining to a very slow child. "If I had tried to reason with the Aristocrats, they would have never let me do such a thing. They would have called me silly and overly dramatic. They would have pushed me to marry anyway even if it went against the laws. Just because they want to control me, like they wanted to control Yuuri years ago. But I won't let them." He spoke the last word with cold vehemence.

"But your Excellency-"

"Let me put it this way." Wolfram said tersely. "It's nothing that concerns a simple soldier and it is my business. You have done what I told you. If you are worried that you will be reprimanded for assisting me then I will take responsibility, alright?"

Even under the frightening glare of his captain, the soldier still made to protest, but a passing glance to his right had him screaming. "Your Excellency, look out!"

Wolfram barely had time to register what the man had said before an arrow whizzed past his ear, lopping off a lock of gold hair. Eyes wide, Wolfram whipped his head towards the trees alongside the road only to duck when another arrow tried to pierce his neck.

He struggled to calm his horse down and draw his sword at the same time as the sounds of his men shouting and drawing their own weapons echoed around him. He quickly wrapped the reigns around his wrist and sat up on his mount ready to strike at the thieves that rushed out from behind the trees.

Wolfram squinted as the light of the setting sun glinted off the crude broadsword of the thief as it swung forward to lop off his head. He expertly deflected the blow, nearly knocking his opponent of his own steed. But the man was quick to right himself and he tightened his grip and readied his next move.

Wolfram quickly scanned the environment. The attackers were using the trees as cover, trapping him and his men in the open road, prime targets for a hidden archer. He looked for his men and found that they were struggling against the other thieves and it became painfully apparent that they were surrounded. There must have been at least a dozen of them, heavily armed and with the upper hand. Even if Wolfram and his soldiers were more skilled, they were still outnumbered.

The blonde king contemplated using his magic, but hesitated, knowing that he would risk hitting his own men and in the dry summer heat, cause a forest fire.

A yell alerted Wolfram to his right. One of his men had gone down, knocked off his mount and was currently being stabbed by the thieves and trampled by their horses.

Wolfram's eyes widened in horror at the carnage, it was the same soldier that had been talking to him before the attack. Rage fueling him, Wolfram brought up his hand and began to summon his flames.

A sudden wave of nausea tore through his abdomen and Wolfram swore to the high heavens when he recognized the feeling, saw the glinting stone dangling around the attacker's necks and his toothy grin.

Esoteric stones.

God damn it!

He struggled to brace himself when the thief he had been fighting reared up for another heavy blow. Wolfram barely had time to bring up his own sword in defense, still in shock over the death of his comrade. He did block the blow, but the thief suddenly changed tactics and leapt from his own horse onto Wolfram's and used his weight to drag Wolfram off his saddle.

Wolfram grunted when he hit the hard ground and was crushed by the large man. With all his strength, he shoved the thief off, but he winced when he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and cursed when he couldn't move his right arm well.

'It's probably dislocated,' He thought. He looked around desperately for his sword, but it was lost among the feet of men and horses and dust and bodies.

Hissing his frustration, Wolfram reached into his boot and pulled out a dagger. He positioned it in his good hand and pushed himself to his feet.

No sooner had Wolfram stood up than two men came at him from opposite sides. Wolfram landed a quick punch to the first man and slashed at the second, momentarily disabling both. He looked for his own men and was horrified to see that he and only one other soldier were still standing, the first soldier's body lay in a bloody heap and the second was no where to be found.

"Your Excellency!" The soldier shouted as he shoved his sword through a man's eye. "There's too many! We have to get out of here!"

Wolfram was very well aware of that. But the problem was how? He knew he hadn't killed any of his attackers and he could only assume how many his men had taken down before meeting their own ends. If only they could call for help. If only he had brought more soldiers. But who would dare attack on demon lands and so close to the castle?

"Bielefeld! Behind you!" the soldier suddenly screamed, rushing towards his captain.

An inhuman yell was all Wolfram heard before cold metal was driven through his left shoulder and he was yanked to the ground. Blood stained his uniform as he clutched at the gushing wound.

This was it. This was the end. His life brought to a close by some freak attack from common thieves. He never thought he would meet such a pitiful end, never thought his life would be over so soon. What of Greta? What of Gwendal? What of the kingdom? Who would take his place?

His world was spinning. His breath was short, and shallow. He sank to the bloodstained dirt, as his life force trickled under his shirt, adding its own shade of red to the growing pool beneath him. His eyes faded in and out of darkness, his torso swayed weakly as he struggled to stay conscious.

At least….At least, he would be joining Yuuri soon. At least he wouldn't be alone in the afterlife.

Someone hit him hard with the hilt of his sword and Wolfram's vision darkened as he fell forward amid the chaos, almost getting trampled by the wild horses.

He stared up from the ground at the looming figure above him, sword held high for that final killing strike.

'I'll be there soon, Yuuri. Just wait a little longer.'

As Wolfram slipped into darkness, he didn't hear the terrifying battle cry or the sounds of more fighting. He didn't feel his body being lifted and carried away into the forest.

* * * * * * * * * * * * YNH * * * * * * * * * * * *

The blonde king awoke to the worst headache he had ever experienced in his entire life. He forced his eyelids to slide open and reveal his surroundings.

The afterlife sure looked a lot like a forest at night.

Groaning, he slowly rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his good elbow. He startled when he saw that someone had put his dislocated shoulder in a sling.

"You shouldn't be moving yet," said a gruff voice.

He knew that voice.

Wolfram peered across a blazing fire to the other side were a huge man with brutish features sat on a log, poking at the kindling with a stick and watching him.

"Adelbert?" he drawled incredulously. "How did-"

The big demon smiled ruefully. "I was in the area and I happened to hear a commotion, and lo-and-behold, it was you in a scuffle." He sat up straight, his hand propped on his knee. "You came pretty close to your end, you know? If I and my boys hadn't shown up, you wouldn't have made it."

"More than likely." Wolfram grunted as he sat up in his cot.

"Hey, I said don't move! You took quite a hit to the head."

"I'm fine." Wolfram said impatiently, to which Adelbert mumbled something rather rude.

The blonde examined his environment. It appeared to be just him and Grantz in a small campsite with only a fire and some rotting logs arranged as seats around the blaze, and his cot. There were some supplies piled against a tree trunk and he could barely see the outline of three horse tied up in the bushes, their dark coats making them nearly invisible in the night.

"Where's my horse?" he asked.

Adelbert just shrugged. "Don't know. Probably ran off somewhere."

"And my men?" He asked though he feared the answer.

Adelbert shook his head. "I'm sorry. You're the only survivor."

Wolfram slumped back in his seat. They were all dead. And it was his fault, his stupid little endeavor got three of his best fire wielders killed. They had been members of his squadron for years, before then even, when they were all still students at the academy.

Weighed by his guilt, Wolfram placed his head in his hands and continued to mentally berate himself for his selfishness. Once again his impulses had caused trouble. Yuuri would be so ashamed.

"This is my fault… I wasn't paying attention at all… No one would dare attack so close to the capital." He whispered brokenly.

"People are driven to do strange things when they are desperate." Adelbert said grimly.

But that did nothing to assuage Wolfram's guilt. He was too busy reeling over the deaths of his comrades and the terrible consequences that would occur when he was forced to inform their families. Wolfram knew all too well the pain of losing a loved one, and in his own grief he had caused others suffering. He groaned in his hands and slumped over his lap, feeling the physical weight of the burden he now bore.

"It's not your fault you know. That's military life." Adelbert said in a poor attempt at sympathy.

"It is!" Wolfram groaned. "I'm their captain, and their king! They're sworn to protect me and I needlessly forced them to give up their own lives for my selfish reasons! How can I face everyone when I get back?"

"Just do." Adelbert shrugged. "They knew the vows they made when the swore themselves to the crown like fools and they knew that sooner or later they would be asked to die for their king. That's just how a life in the military goes. Everyone knows that."

Wolfram didn't respond, he just stared into the flames, watching little burning embers float on the gentle breeze and into the night. He felt ashamed and sad that he had lost not just his best soldiers, but also the people that had come closest to being his friends.

A rustle in the bushes alerted the two men o the presence of two of Adelbert's followers. When they stepped into the light of the fire, Wolfram was able to make out their faces and assign their names - Keenan and Angelica, Adelbert's most trusted companions. Gwendal had called them cronies, among other less polite terms.

"Ah, he wakes!" said Angelica with mock joy, flipping her bright red hair behind one shoulder.

"Did you find where those scoundrels came from?" Adelbert asked.

"None." Keenan grunted, dropping his knapsack to the ground. "They just disappeared."

"Very well then." Adelbert said dismissively and returned to poking at the fire.

Wolfram just blinked. "That's it?'

"What's it?"

"You're not going to track them down?" Wolfram asked indignantly. "They attacked the demon king! They killed three of my best men! And you're just going to say that's it? They've committed a grave crime, and they should be punished!"

"In case you forgot, your Majesty. I renounced my citizenship years ago and as such it's not my problem what happened to you. I just happened to be in the area and felt enough pity for your plight to rescue you and that's all there is to it." Adelbert sniffed.

"Why you!-" He made to stand up, but a sharp pain in his shoulder sat him back down roughly against the blankets. Wolfram looked down indignantly at his wound. He had forgotten it was even there in his guilt, and shame.

"Take it easy." The larger blonde ordered. "I just bandaged that, and I don't want you bleeding all over my bandages."

"Douchebag." The blonde mumbled, a rather useful word he had learned from Yuuri after a difficult negotiation with Dai Shimaron. It encompassed everything he felt about certain people.

"Whatever."

The group went about in silence for some time. Keenan and Angelica ignored the silent stand-off between the two blondes and went about their business in the camp, meddling with their things or feeding the horses, and generally staying out of the way of the two most hard-headed people in Shin Makoku.

"Where'd you get that tattoo?"

Wolfram hid the fact that Adelbert's voice had startled him out of another self-induced guilt trip. "What?"

"That tattoo." Adelbert pointed to the spot on Wolfram's chest. "Where, and when did you get it?"

It took a moment for Wolfram to realize what the prodigal demon was referring to, he immediately looked down at his chest, hand drifting over the tattoo, now exposed through his open shirt.

"I-I went to the Shinou Temple today." Wolfram explained. "That's why I was out in the first place."

"What's it for?"

Wolfram hesitated, not sure if he wanted to share such personal information with someone he had only met a few times and didn't always get along with. "A ceremony." He said slowly. "I swore a vow of chastity, and this is the symbol of that vow."

Ice blue eyes went wide. "Chastity?" he repeated in disbelief. "I thought the Aristocrats were trying to match you up with some pretty lady so they'd have a back-up ruler if you died. Though I can see why. If things like this are a regular occurence." Adelbert finished with a wry smirk.

"You're not funny." The demon prince muttered hotly.

"I wasn't trying to be."

"They just want a puppet they can control who has as much power as I do." Wolfram growled. "They realized quickly they couldn't control me, so they're going to find someone they can and get them to marry me."

Adelbert rolled his eyes. "Typical." He picked up a canteen and took a long swig, he offered the bottle to Wolfram who took it and also drank but ended up coughing harshly.

"This isn't water!"

Adelbert let out a bark of a laugh. "It's pure distilled _Gsuffa_ from the North. Not only does it serve as an antidote for most arrow poisons, Svelerans use it to clean the axels on their carriages. It'll clean your innards is what it'll do!"

Wolfram struggled to blink back tears. His throat was on fire! "It's awful!" He choked.

"But it'll bring you back from the dead, for certain." Adelbert laughed again.

Wolfram mumbled 'douchebag' again as he gradually regained his composure.

"Hey, Lord Brat." Adelbert said after Wolfram finally collected himself.

"What?" Wolfram wheezed.

Adelbert was suddenly very serious. "Why'd you do it really? If you didn't want to marry, you could have just told the fat cats to leave you alone. Why take a whole vow?"

Again, Wolfram wasn't sure how much he should give away. "Um…" He sighed. May as well. "I didn't want anyone to replace Yuuri. He's the only one I could be with."

Adelbert looked at him for a bit and then smiled. "Aw, how sweet." He cooed. "Eternal love."

"Don't mock me!" Wolfram snapped. "It's serious! I'm complying with a law that state that the fiancé of the late demon king must pledge a vow of chastity because they were touched by the divine through the demon king. It's against the will of Shinou to force a dead king's fiancé or spouse to wed another!"

"Really now?" Wolfram wanted to smack the smug look off of Adelbert's face. "From what I heard that law only applies to the king's fiancé when they have been intimate."

The blonde blushed and looked away, grumbling.

Wolfram missed the unusual glint in Adelbert's eye when he asked the next question. "Were you and the boy king intimate?"

Wolfram's blush deepened. "That's none of your business!" He spat.

Adelbert threw up his hands. "Hey, no need to get antsy." He said, but the mischievous smirk stayed in place. "It's just between us men. That's what we do when we're alone. Talk about past conquests."

"I am not inclined to share such personal information with you!" Wolfram huffed.

"Okay, okay, relax." Adelbert conceded. He looked at the fire for moment and then looked up. "Was he good in bed?"

"Shut up!" The canteen flew past his ear as the big man continued grinning at the now irate, and embarrassed blonde.

"Sorry! Sorry!" He grunted. Adelbert couldn't help but smile at the younger man's antics. The brat was now red-faced and panting with anger, hair askew and green eyes bright and flashing. It was nice to see some life return to the somber being he had been moments before.

He just couldn't resist.

"Was he your first?"

"I said shut up!" Wolfram stomped his foot, now that he had nothing to throw.

The big man smiled triumphantly. "I'll take that as a yes to both."

Then, Adelbert's face softened. "I don't blame you." He said gently. "It was obvious when I saw you how much you loved him, and he you. Everyone did."

Wolfram immediately deflated at the older demon's soft-spoken words. He relaxed back into his seat and looked down sadly. "He was everything to me." Acting out an old habit, his fingers sought out the blue pendant, his one connection to his Yuuri.

Adelbert's eyes fell to where Wolfram's fingers twiddled the gem. "Yes." He murmured. "He was a kind boy. The makings of a real king. Gentle, yet brave, just like Julia."

A snapping twig alerted them to the return of Adelbert's companions. Keenan and Angelica had disappeared into the woods at the beginning of their exchange, they walked into the firelight with daggers drawn, an odd menacing expression colored their faces that made the hair on Wolfram's neck stand at attention.

"Boss," Keenan said. "Angelica says there's a full moon tonight."

Adelbert's eyes glinted in the light. "I see…"

Wolfram looked from Adelbert to Keenan and back, he tensed. "What about the full moon?"

The big demon slowly stood up from his seat and sauntered over to stand directly before the blonde prince, his massive form back lighted by the fire. "Well, my friends and I have been working on a little project and now we're in the final stages of its completion." His gaze was predatory. "We just need one more thing."

His hand went instinctively for his sword, but Wolfram paled when he realized that he was completely unarmed, he wasn't even sure if he still had his dagger.

When Wolfram tried to stand, he was immediately pushed back down by Adelbert's calloused hand. "Now, relax." Adelbert drawled. "There's nothing to be afraid of!"

"What are you doing?" Wolfram demanded as struggled to get up, but he was stopped when Adelbert clamped down harder onto his shoulders.

"You won't get far with that injury." Adelbert hissed. "I suggest you come along quiet-"

Of all the things Adelbert was expecting the lord brat to do, it was not head-butting. He reeled back with a yelp as Wolfram squirmed out of his grasp and tried to run for the trees.

"Get him!" He barked to Keenan and Angelica.

The red-haired woman was the first to react. She leapt across the camp, her bow staff extended and managed to clip Wolfram's ankle, effectively tripping him.

Wolfram landed with a grunt and kicked at Keenan as the skinny man tried to grab his legs. Pushing past the pain, Wolfram twisted around onto his back and landed a solid kick to Keenan's chin, knocking the man backwards.

With an outraged cry, the man leapt forward, and tackled Wolfram to the ground as he lurched towards the trees. The weight sent Wolfram crashing into the hard ground, he immediately began to kick and punch anything that came near him. The only indication of his blows causing damage was the curses and yelps of his assailants.

There was movement in the corner of his vision, Wolfram saw Adelbert come near him with a cloth and he knew instantly and renewed his efforts.

He shouted in frustration when in the mayhem, Keenan and Angelica got hold of his arms and legs. He cursed and struggled but they just tightened their grips painfully on his limbs as Adelbert approached him with the cloth dipped in sleeping potion.

Grabbing his hair by the roots, Adelbert shoved the cloth into Wolfram's face and the blonde tried in vain to jerk his head away. Gradually, his movements began to slow and he went limp in their hands, and they coldly let him fall to the ground.

Adelbert lifted the cloth to reveal drugged, glazed eyes and he threw it haphazardly to the side. The brat wouldn't cause anymore trouble.

"Get him on a horse." He barked. "We only have three days to get this done, and time is precious."

A dual "Yes, sir!" was the last thing Wolfram heard as he fell into a deep sleep.

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Adelbert cursed the sun for daring to shine so brightly on this somber of days.

It was a beautiful spring day; the birds chirped their mocking songs as they flittered about above the mourners. The dark clothes of the guests were a sharp contrast to the bright pastels and greens of the courtyard.

Adelbert continued to glare at the beautiful gardens. He could no longer find it in himself to watch the immediate family of the demon king stand around the casket, stumbling through their speeches as they choked on their tears. They were still on Lord von Christ, the second after Voltaire, as usual his speech had been going on for almost fifteen minutes now, and the blonde demon wished someone would just put him out of his misery.

It was all von Grantz could do to not rush onto that podium, and beat the snot out of those who supposedly had sworn to protect the boy king. He had barely been able to hide his outrage when he heard that the King's untimely death had been brought upon by a common childhood illness, and those pompous fools – too used to their lives of privilege, easy living and luxury - had botched any opportunity to heal him.

Those incompetent bastards.

Had Adelbert been there, he would have scourged the entire continent for the best medicines, and healers, and anything that could heal Yuuri's illness. Not stand around wringing his hands, sobbing like a half-wit like these idiots.

It was too much. It was too much like what had happened with his beloved Julia. She had worked herself ragged, healing the soldiers in that bloodbath they called a war only to be rewarded by forcing her into sacrificing her life for some dead king who thought himself a god. And they – like now - just stood around as if it were out of their hands, callously let it run its course, and an innocent life was needlessly lost.

Just like now.

Adelbert didn't think - he _knew_ it was their fault, their uselessness, their lack of free will, their dependency on some false deity that governed their lives with all the care, and concern of a spoiled child, toying with people's lives like a cat toys with a half-dead mouse. Useless! Cruel! Lazy!

Adelbert looked up when von Christ – thank the mercies! - had finally finished his useless dribble, and the podium was ascended by the king's former fiancé, the Bielefeld brat.

A tiny, weak twinge of sympathy rose within him as he watched the young man slowly give his speech. Adelbert was surprised when the boy didn't falter or choke like the others. His voice was steady, eerily absent of any emotion. His eyes stared straight ahead, above the heads of the guests, and into the trees behind them.

Adelbert shook his head. The poor fool. Little more than a puppet controlled by his brothers. He bet a bushel of gold that his declarations of love were part of a well-rehearsed, and superbly acted role his brothers and uncle had meticulously created just for him, their direct link to the throne.

Adelbert was done with this drivel. Melting back into the crowd, he stealthily left the funeral, escaped through one of the servants' entrances and into the stables where his horse was kept with the other steeds.

This was not the end. He would not stand, and babble like the others. The boy, his Julia, was wrongly taken away, again! And again they had stood by, and let him perish! His Julia! His Yuuri!

His love!

He would not allow this! He would seek other powers, not that madman Shinou! He would find a way to right these wrongs, he would be able to have his beloved back with him and him only, out of the way of those puppets and their master! He would do what he should have done decades ago!

He would bring Julia back from the dead.

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Wolfram awoke to a splitting headache. He opened his eyes only to find himself in a pitch-black room, unable to see anything except for what little light escaped through the cracks in the wooden walls.

He groaned and rolled over onto his hands and knees to weakly push himself into a standing position. He wobbled for a bit, the effects of the sleeping drug were just beginning to wear off. He groggily looked left and right, struggling to make out his surroundings in the dark room.

Was he in a cell or a cave? How did he get here?

The events from that day came crashing into his vision as his mind frantically replayed the past couple of days.

That's right, he was recued by von Grantz from thieves. Then Grantz turned on him and drugged him. But where was he now?

"Hello?" He called and was struck by how scratchy his voice was. He cleared his throat, and called out again but there was no answer.

"Adelbert!" He shouted spinning around to vainly face his kidnapper. "I know you're there! What have you done to me!"

A shuffle, and then a crash from behind startled Wolfram. He spun around to look into the depths of his holding place.

A feeling of dread crept up his spine as the crash was followed by a soft creaking noise, like something heavy swinging from a rope.

"Who's there?" He shouted into the dark. "Show yourself!"

Overcoming his growing fear, the blonde slowly walked towards the noise. As he went he extended his hands to feel his way, touched various square objects and sticks. He sniffed the air, and was greeted with the scent of musty vegetables, and wood.

Wolfram's brow furrowed. Not a cell, but someone's cellar! It smelled just like the one's on Blood Pledge's kitchens. He could feel the boxes and crates that no doubt held different possessions and preserved foods all thrown together helter-skelter, but still stacked neatly in pillars and shoved against the walls, and piled in the middle of the room.

The swinging noise grew more distinct when Wolfram's fingertips discovered the back wall. Feeling along the sides, he walked, tripping occasionally over a loose object or such until his fingers felt a frame and the air. A second room.

"Who's there?" He called again. A hacking noise answered him. The blonde knelt down, and picked up the object he had tripped over, a metal pipe.

"I have a weapon! You had better show yourself!"

Back positioned against the wall beside the door, Wolfram pushed it open, the creaking noise cut through the quiet, sending little dust clouds into the air.

He wasn't sure how much protection a rusty old pipe would give him, but Wolfram held it aloft like a sword nonetheless, and entered the room, eyes alert and straining against the darkness, utilizing the pale moonlight that shone through the cracks.

What he saw next stopped him dead in his tracks.

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There you have it! Chapter two. I hope you all enjoyed it.

Not to sound whiny or greedy or anything, but I noticed that no one bothered to review the first chapter. That worries me, are you all really liking this story? If not then I want to know. I don't want to waste your time or mine by writing a less than good story. I want you all to enjoy this, but the only way I can gauge how it's being received is only through reviews. Even if you don't like it, I want to know so I can be a better writer. I'm not going to be one of those obnoxious authors who wants a certain amount of reviews, that's rude, but I do want to know what you guys are thinking, even if it's negative.

Thank you all for reading this, I wish you all the best and if you haven't donated t the Japan relief effort then do so now! They need our help! Every little bit counts!

Note on terminology: During drinking contests, _Gsuffa_ is a word that Germans shout before they take a huge swig of beer. I think it means something like 'Drink!' or "Chug!" I thought it would make a nice name for a type of beer in Shin Makoku, since the world is based of medieval Germany anyway.

What's in the backroom? Guess we'll find out in chapter three!

Love-EB


	4. Chapter 4

You're Not Here

Chapter Three

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, your comments are duly noted and appreciated. I hope you enjoy this next installment.

Warnings: Violence, non-consensual sexuality, language.

Disclaimer: I do not own KKM, but the plot and characterizations are my own creation.

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Chapter Three: New Blood For Old

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Keenan watched his lord move about the front yard as they made preparations for the final stages of the spell Adelbert had cast months ago. The altar was covered in black roses-the rarest blooms of all. How his boss had come to have such a huge amount of the flowers was beyond him. As far as he knew the flowers only grew in the mountains to the North and could not survive in the temperate climate of Shin Makoku.

Keenan turned his gaze to the black sky, appearing as a void against the roaring flame outside the little cottage they had "procured" for the occasion. Keenan didn't know what had become of the owners and in retrospect he didn't think he wanted to. They had "gone' for a "trip" according to Adelbert and the mad glint in his eye kept Keenan from inquiring further.

"Soon," he heard the boss mumble as he placed the finishing touches on the altar. "It will be over tonight and we will be together again, my Julia."

That never failed to send chills down the thin man's spine; Adelbert would constantly talk to 'Julia,' refer to _that thing_ as Julia, even though it was nothing like the demon healer of decades ago. Keenan never knew much about the woman who had taken over the boss' mind. Only that she had been his fiancé and lover and that she had at least two rivals for her affection. Adelbert didn't like to talk about her, it was a point of contention for him and a dark stain on his memory. When it was revealed that the young double black demon king was the reincarnation of Julia, Keenan saw a transformation in Adelbert. He became fascinated and protective of the boy, this vassal of his lover's soul, and strangely enough, his contempt for the aristocracy grew tenfold when the boy was concerned.

And it only worsened when he died. Adelbert was pensive, quietly seething after the funeral and took to locking himself up in inns and public libraries reading thousands of books it seemed on the dark arts. Necromancy.

"Keenan!" Adelbert barked knocking Keenan out of his musings.

"Yes, boss?" he said quickly.

"Help me with this beam."

"Right." Keenan rushed over to help Adelbert lift the heavy wooden beam that was part of the awning.

"What were you thinking over there?" His tone was casual, but Keenan knew to tread carefully when Adelbert inquired his thoughts on anything.

"Nothing." He said dismissively. "Just thinking about tonight."

The smile on Adelbert's face was disturbing in its sheer glee. "Yes, finally I can be reunited with her and we will steal away into the wilderness away from those idiot puppets."

"Ah, yeah."

Adelbert didn't miss the hesitation in Keenan's voice. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, nothing." Keenan said quickly, he knew that what he was thinking could rile up the boss and that would not be good at all.

The boss's eyes narrowed at the man. "Tell me what you're thinking, Keenan." His command was low, smooth and dangerous.

Keenan knew what he wanted to say, there was so much to he wanted to tell the boss. But, his nerves abandoned him. Images, terrible images played across his mind as he remembered the nine other victims, young noblemen of the Ten Aristocrats. They were children really, some of them were very bright and promising, beautiful. Virginal.

It was that attribute that made them targets, that sealed their horrid fates, as they were chosen with a cold systematic air to be the sacrifices for Adelbert's dogged ambition.

Keenan had watched his commander, a man he had sworn loyalty to, something Keenan did very rarely, as the large man had scoured through every book and forbidden texts, consulting the witches and necromancers that lurked in the very darkest depths of Shin Makoku's underbelly. He remembered holding stacks of books and scrolls as Adelbert read for hours, sometimes into the wee hours of the morning, teaching himself the dark arts for this one purpose.

"It's…just…" Keenan began. How should he put it? "Just…" Damn it. "This doesn't feel right. It isn't right! We should never have done this. The witch said…"

"I don't care what the old bitch said." Adelbert hissed. "We've been over this. We've come too far and sacrificed too much to give up know. I won't let you give up on me, Keenan."

"But, they were so young, Adelbert." Keenan said, he rarely used his boss' actual name, only when the matter left him panicked. "And this time, it's the king's fiancé. And he's the king right now! Don't you know what will happen when they find out he's missing?"

Adelbert's tone sent chills down Keenan's spine. "That's why we used the old man's son as a decoy body. By the time the wolves are done with him there'll be no way to tell if it is Bielefeld or if it isn't."

Keenan tried not to outwardly grimace. Yes, the old man's son, a blonde haired boy with light green eyes and very similar in build and face to the Bielefeld prince. Adelbert had sympathy enough to poison the boy instead of kill his parents like he did after the child keeled over. The demon had then sauntered into their home, the little house where they stayed now and would be the site of the ending ritual, like it was a consensual trade and not cold murder.

"That's not what I'm talking about!" Keenan said vehemently. He gestured towards the makeshift altar. "I'm talking about this! This…..this….insanity! The others were one thing, but this is the new demon king! And-"

"Oh, please, Keenan," Adelbert sneered. "Don't get all righteous on me. It's not like this is any different from the others. It's what they deserve, they sent thousands of innocents to their deaths over and over again and no one batted an eye. Why should we care when we take their own sons for our own gain when they did the same?"

"But, Adelbert…"

"Keenan, if you're so against it why have you aided me? Why have you even stuck around at all?"

Keenan looked away, blushing. "That's…because….I.." He stuttered. It wasn't vengeance or even cold blood that somehow manipulated Keenan into helping Adelbert against his better judgment. Not at all, it was the workings of his own heart, a longing for Adelbert's affection that clouded his judgment and made him help with such a terrible endeavor.

Adelbert smiled bitterly, already aware of Kennan's weaknesses. "You poor ugly thing. Unrequited, but loved just the same," He cooed.

Keenan looked down sadly at his own hands. He remembered luring and taking the young nobility into the woods and delivering them to his boss like sheep to a butcher and the screams, always the screams. He had done it on order from his captain, his lord…his love.

Ugly, unrequited, Adelbert was right. Keenan had devoted himself to his captain out of the respect he had for him in their early days, but that respect quickly grew into an emotion that Kennan wished he would never experience, for the sake of his sanity. He had forced his emotions to the very back of his mind, and stepped back as his lord engaged himself to the blind girl, mourned her death, and obsessed over her new, male self. He watched the underlying madness seethe and grow under the stony-faced visage that was Von Grantz, he had watched it crack, and fall to pieces when the king was declared dead. He watched the visage be replaced by a new, piercing mask that held so many secrets, and one very prominent threat to those Adelbert found guilty through his own system of justice.

The mask never left. It hid his love from him, as he traveled, and scoured every village, archive, and castle for the way to his revenge, and his dead love.

"Let's get this finished," Adelbert's voice cut through Keenan's thoughts. "This is our last chance."

"Yes," The other man muttered forlornly, a slave to his love for his lord and cruelly bound to the false hope that he would regain his sanity.

"Hey, guys!" The two men looked up to see Angelica approaching from inside the house. Her red ponytail swayed daintily with her every step. In her arms was a basket of roses for the altar.

Adelbert smiled. "Excellent, where did you find them so close to the end of the season?"

The woman shrugged. "I have ways." She dumped the basket right in front of Keenan, and immediately began to arrange them around the base of the altar.

Keenan didn't why the ceremony called for roses, neither did anyone else. The translation was minimum, with only the most necessary words deciphered. It could have been aesthetic. It could have been significant. It didn't matter to Kennan, he had come to hate the flowers, they reminded him of the lives he had taken, for the graves he dug, for the altars he built for their blood to be sacrificed to some unknown heathen god, who granted wishes to only the basest of individuals.

Yes, roses made him think of blood.

* * * * * * * * * * YNH * * * * * * * * * *

"Oh my god!" Wolfram shrieked, and he dropped his pipe to the ground with a loud clang as he rushed forward to aid the dangling figure. "What the hell?"

It was a boy, hanging by his neck, a chair lying in its side behind him. Gasping, choking sounds filled the quite room, as clouds of dust drifted unsettled from the activity. The slim body twitched, and shook as oxygen was cut off, and the rope tightened cruelly around a neck.

Mind blank, driven by instinct, Wolfram grasped at shaking shoulders, and felt his way up the neck, feeling the rope, and following it up to a rafter just out of his reach.

"Hold on!" He shouted, and grabbed the fallen chair and leapt onto the seat. The rope was taut from the other's weight, the fibers bit at Wolfram's soft fingers as he jammed them between the tight coils of the knot, and the rotting wood of the rafter.

The other boy made a gurgling noise and his movements began to slow. Wolfram yanked, and pulled at the rope, and finally the cord began to slip. He pulled at it again, and this time, the entire knot collapsed, sliding to the ground as the other boy crashed, sending up a cloud of dirt, and dust.

Wolfram jumped off the chair, and knelt beside him. The boy was heaving, and gasping for precious, life-giving air, fingers gripping at the dirt floor, shoulders shaking uncontrollably, chest heaving. Wolfram held his hands out to help, but stopped to hover helplessly above the panting form.

Wolfram had never dealt with someone who was clearly trying to kill himself. He wasn't sure how to go about comforting him. Wolfram shook his head out of its blankness, and gently pushed the now stilled man onto his back.

The boy obeyed Wolfram's touch, and fell onto his back easily, chest rising gently up and down as he stared at the ceiling above him. It was too dark to make out his features, but Wolfram could tell he was young, maybe not much older than he, but that was dependent on whether he was demon or not. But, in appearance, they seemed the same. A weak beam of moonlight streamed in from a crack in the ceiling, and fell across the fallen man's right eye. It was half open and glazed drifting closed from near unconsciousness. The light glinted off a dark iris that scanned, and twitched from side to side, before resting on the face of his rescuer, or inhibitor, it depended on how the boy saw it.

"A-are you alright?" Wolfram asked, hesitantly reaching to place a steadying hand on his shoulder. No sooner had his fingertips brushed against the cloth of his shirt, the man came to life. A hand smacked away at Wolfram's own, as he sat up with blinding speed, and crawled backwards until he bumped against the opposite wall, panting, and shaking in fear.

Wolfram let his hand hang in the air, as his mind pieced together what had just happened.

Wolfram blinked. "Um…" He tried to say something, but the words died on his tongue, when the other man made a terrible hacking noise, but continued to stare at him through the darkness. He couldn't see his companion's eyes, but he felt them pierce his body.

The boy managed to compose himself, and he sat a little straighter, eyes always trained on Wolfram, apprehensive and accusing.

"I'm sorry," was all Wolfram could think of to say. "I didn't mean to startle you."

The youth stilled, seemingly accepting Wolfram's shaky apology. All sense of fear left his body, and Wolfram could feel it give way to curiosity as the silhouette relaxed, and the hard scrutiny melted away.

"My name is Wolfram," Wolfram said in as friendly a manner as he could. He figured that best approach was to introduce himself, since it was obvious they were both prisoners. He almost started to recite his formal title, but he stopped. He didn't feel that formalities would be useful in this situation, and he didn't need a companion preoccupied with etiquette when escape was the priority.

He politely waited for the other to respond. But, when all he got was silence, he wondered if the noose had done more damage than he thought. The other seemed fine for someone that nearly killed himself - energetic, and alert.

"What's your name?" He prompted again. This time, he barely perceived the motion of a head shaking sadly, the dim outline of a hand reaching up to a throat, and tapping it gently.

Wolfram stared for a minute, not quite understanding, but then it clicked. "You're a mute," He stated flatly. "A mute."

Movement again - a nod. Wolfram groaned, and ran his hands through his matted hair in frustration, he cursed as he upset his injured shoulder. Great, just great. How could they escape, when one of them couldn't talk? Hand signals were out of the question, even if their vision was finally beginning to compensate for the lack of light. Wolfram could now make out the dark grey shapes of various objects in the cellar, and the slightly darker outline of his silent companion. But, it wasn't enough for hand gestures to be effective.

Big, heavy footsteps against the ceiling startled the two men out of their skin. The footstep clamored against creaking floorboards, sending cakes of dust, dirt, and wood to the ground to rain on them. Two pairs of eyes strained as they followed the direction of the footsteps. A door creaked and slammed shut – then silence.

Two identical gasps echoed in the dark, neither of them realized that they had been holding their breath. Wolfram looked back at his companion, to see that he had gone back to cowering in his corner, staring up at the ceiling where the footsteps had been.

"I don't know about you," Wolfram stated. "But, I'm going to find a way the hell out of here."

The darkness didn't let Wolfram see the frantic head-shaking his statement elicited. The blonde determinedly got up from his spot on the floor, dusted himself off, and felt his way along the wall, searching for the door. Ignoring the constant shuffling behind him, he felt his way back into the main room, side-stepping any boxes or objects that got in his way. The darkness added sensitivity to his other senses, and he could smell the preserved meats, and vegetables within the big wooden boxes. The wall guiding him, he made a complete survey of the room.

He estimated it to be about thirty paces by twenty, a typical size of a cellar. The room was old, and unkempt, the boxes, and crates were stacked haphazardly atop each other, if Wolfram wasn't careful as he moved about, he would most certainly knock one of the towers over, thus injuring himself or attracting unwanted attention from his captors. His feet kicked aside various loose items. He bent down to feel for anything that could be used as a tool or a weapon. His fingers only found broken pieces of wood, and random sticks of metal. The only thing of any use was the rusty pipe from earlier, and that was back in the tiny adjacent room.

Dust hanging like moss from the rafters, splintered wooden panels, an old wine rack with only four crusty bottles shoved in the cubbies, Wolfram's fingers painted a picture of the room for his eyes. He continued feeling until he hit the back wall again, he skimmed his fingertips along the wood, taking care to not spear them on a wayward splinter. He paused when he found another door, this one shut fast, and refusing to budge under his touch.

"Damned door," He muttered hotly, as he pushed even harder against the wood. The door creaked, and groaned in response, but still did not move an inch. He found the handle, and shook it violently, quickly losing patience when even that made little difference. Placing both hands on the knob, he yanked, and twisted it with all his might, ramming the door with his uninjured shoulder as hard as he could without upsetting his injuries, which ached in protest at his activity. After the fourth shove and twist, the door gave way with a loud creak, and Wolfram stumbled into yet another tiny adjacent room. It was nearly half the size of the other small room, and packed twice as tight with shelves lined with containers, and general junk. He coughed as the swinging door rained down cakes of dust, and grime as he stepped into the cramped space. His eyes blinked into focus as they registered a wide beam of blue light coming from a tiny window high above him. The moon was at its highest now, providing the only source of substantial light for the entire cellar. Wolfram could make out the shapes of bottles, and jars that lined the shelves, and the edges of the floors. He stepped forward, but stopped when his knee brushed against a smooth edge. It was a metal tub, small enough to fit inside the room, but big enough for a petite adult to bathe in if they so choose.

Wolfram tried to push the door in to give himself more room to move about, but it jammed on something on the floor. He reached out to touch the object with his foot, and found it to be cloth, or really, piles of clothing strewn about the floor.

It was immediately after he registered the ratty clothes on the floor that his nose was assaulted with a rancid metallic smell. Wolfram's hand slapped against his mouth as he held back a gag as the rotting smell wafting up from the pile of clothes and from a large tin bucket shoved in a corner. He leaned over to investigate the contents of the bucket and instantly berated himself for his stupidity. The bucket seemed to be stained with a dark substance that caused the smell with a small pool of the liquid situated at the bottom. When his brain finally overcame the horrid smell, it was able to register the origins of the substance and he could only groan. It was blood. Old, rotten blood. He backed up in horror from the bucket, frantically looking around the room for the source of the blood. His foot kicked at something on the floor and he whined when he saw that under the piles of clothes were bones with pieces of flesh still attached.

He stumbled back against the door frame, legs shaking as he struggled to keep himself up, completely forgetting about his mute companion. Hand clamped over his mouth, he breathed deeply to stave off the waves of nausea that wracked at his gut.

He heard the shuffling of the other man behind him as he entered the room. A sharp intake of breath and a light keen were that alerted Wolfram to the young man's discovery of the macabre scene. But the mute didn't take it nearly as well as the prince. He stumbled back into the main room of the cellar. In his haste, he tripped over some object behind him, and fell to the ground, clutching his chest in shock as he dry heaved.

"Oh-oh god…" Wolfram choked. "Are you alright?"

He rushed over to kneel beside the hacking man, tentatively placing a hand on his back to comfort him. The other man only doubled over, his free hand grasping desperately at the dusty floor as his body violently shook and his breathing became increasingly labored and a soft sound like growling rumbled through his body.

"You're having a panic attack!" Wolfram exclaimed. He felt a sudden wave of sympathy and protectiveness for the quivering figure in front of him. "Come on, let's get you away from there."

Wolfram carefully lifted the man by his shoulders, and dragged him, still heaving and shaking, away from the room.

'What the hell is going on?' Wolfram thought frantically as he propped the limp body against a stack of crates. 'I want to go home!'

"Hey, hey," He whispered soothingly. "Try to calm down. Just breathe. Breathe."

The mute slowly complied with Wolfram's soft commands. The shaking came under control and he shakily ran his hand through stringy hair. Wolfram continued to rub his back, much the same way Yuuri had rubbed his when he was seasick, the act always made him feel better and he was glad to find that it seemed to have a similar effect on the young man.

"There," He smiled. "It's going to be alright."

But Wolfram doubted how much truth there was to what he said. While he managed to remain calm on the outside, the growing fear ate away at his psyche. Where were they? Why was he here? Did his brothers know he was missing? Surely, they would have noticed his absence by now. Wolfram wasn't sure of the time, but he was certain it was either still night or the next day, but it would have been long enough for his disappearance to be noted and a search party sent out.

He suddenly hated himself and his stupidity. In yet another instance of his impetuous nature, Wolfram had gotten himself into a deadly situation. He had no way of contacting his brothers, no way of escape and no way of knowing what Adelbert and his gang had in store for him. He could only imagine it would be similar to the fates of whomever owned the bloody clothes in the little adjacent room.

Was that why the mute had tried to kill himself? He might have known something about what was going to happen to them. Wolfram didn't know what to make of his silent, easily frightened companion. The other man had made little attempt at communication, other than to notify Wolfram of his inability to speak and simply followed him around.

They were trapped. Wolfram couldn't summon his magic for some unknown reason. He knew they were still in the demon territory, so the inability to use his fire was mystifying. He could feel the energy swirling underneath his skin, ready to be summoned by a flip of the hand, but when he tried, it didn't work. It was like his magic was jammed, blocked by some unseen force and unable to come forth, try as he might.

Their only option at this point was the one thing Wolfram had the most difficulty doing - waiting.

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Two hours. They had two hours before the final sacrifice had to be killed. Two hours and Adelbert would finally have his little monster. Two hours and the nightly screams of the sacrifices would forever echo in the depth of Kennan's mind, haunting him, cursing him, until death take him or he drink himself into a stupor.

It was quiet in the living room of the cottage. Far too quiet. The creature should have transformed by now and killed the Bielefeld boy. They should hear screams and pleas for mercy, for help, but there were none. Just the random sound of muffled scratching and shuffling behind the basement door that stood in plain view from where Keenan and Adelbert sat by the hearth, drinking and staring into nothingness while they waited for the telltale sounds of a vicious animal devouring its prey alive.

The two men sat in the exact same position, seated beside each other, both pairs of eyes trained on the little wooden door that led to the creature's abode. Their body language was vastly different however. Adelbert sat in his armchair with an almost childlike glee, ice-blue eyes glinting in the firelight, a terrifying smirk pulled at his chapped lips, his hands were laced together, knuckles white from his anxious grip. The way his gaze shifted constantly between the fire, the door, and the window where the approaching full moon was just beginning to shine through, unnerved Keenan. He could tell his captain was reliving every moment up until this point, reimagining every fantasy he had concocted in their journey from scouring old necromancy books to collecting the sacrifices.

One thing confuse Keenan though. The spell had said to use full-blooded demons who were virgins or "un-penetrated" as the text had so eloquently put it. But, from what he could muster, Bielefeld had been physically intimate with the late demon king. Or that was why the boy had been so flustered when Adelbert teased him before. But it could just be aristocratic prudence talking.

A chilling thought entered Keenan's mind. What if Bielefeld wasn't a virgin? What would happen to the spell then? The one time Adelbert had let Keenan read the mystical text, it had clearly stated that the sacrifices had to be virgins. If Bielefeld wasn't a pure virgin, would that anger the spirits? Would the creature remain a terrible, bloodthirsty heathen or just drop dead?

Keenan really hoped it would just drop dead.

If it did, Adelbert would more than likely continue his kidnappings, with or without him and Angelica, until he got it right and he could be reunited with "Julia."

Keenan most certainly didn't want that. He didn't want any of this.

"Boss?" He inquired hesitantly.

"What?" Adelbert grunted, obviously perturbed that Keenan would interrupt his daydreaming.

"What if the brat's not a virgin?" Keenan asked timidly. "What happens then?"

Adelbert's frown transformed into a knowing grin. "I found a loophole," He stated. "There are three ways in which the spell can be cast. One way is to use virgins, the second way is to sacrifice the deceased's family members or those who carry his essence or some combination of the two."

When all he got was a confused stare from his goon. Adelbert sighed and continued. "If the brat had sex with Yuuri then he carries his essence, therefore he's still a satisfactory sacrifice. If he isn't then we can assume he's never even kissed someone before Yuuri. The Bielefeld family members are notorious prudes. They value virginity as a commodity when bartering for good marriage prospects. The brat is their star-child, they would never allow him to fraternize with anyone outside of marriage."

A soft 'oh' was whispered from Keenan's mouth. Adelbert returned to staring at the fire and imagining the boy king's long legs wrapped around him in ecstasy.

"What about when his folks come looking for him?"

Adelbert sighed at his companion's slow mindedness. "When this is over, we'll burn the house with the brat's remains in it. We head off into the human territory and take shelter in Dai Cimarron. I have some friends who owe me a favor. We'll be fine. Just relax."

Keenan didn't want to relax. He wanted to have never agreed to this. He wanted to have never let his feelings for his boss dictate his decision to help him with such a heinous crime. He wanted to have the ability to stand against his boss and tell him that what they were doing was wrong. But he didn't because he was weak, because he knew he had committed enough crimes in his past that if he were to leave the protection of Adelbert, he would be at the mercy of the bounty hunters and soldier who sought his head. He was completely stuck.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds came from Angelica going in and out of the house, gathering the various objects and ingredients for the final ceremony. Keenan never knew what to think of the red-haired woman, she was always so quiet and vicious that he made it a point to stay out of her way at all times. She was adept at black magic and the magic of the humans, so she would be presiding over the final ceremony. Keenan realized that he didn't know much about her. She had joined Adelbert before he had and neither of them had made any effort to get to know each other. Only doing what was necessary to get the job done and that was that. There was no need for frivolous friendships or mindless chit-chat.

"Boss," She said, cutting into the thick silence like a knife.

"What?" Adelbert didn't treat her with the same contempt for interrupting his musings the same way he did Keenan.

"It's ready," She said, nodding towards the front door, to the alter that now stood proud against the black backdrop of the night sky.

"Good."

Keenan would never understand why Angelica didn't seem to have the same apprehension towards all this that Keenan did. He did know that Angelica would do anything if the returns outweighed the effort. He didn't know what Adelbert promised her to get her cooperation and her silence. Perhaps Adelbert promised her money or something of that nature. Keenan had no idea what though and he couldn't say he really cared. Angelica was ruthless to the point of heartless, completely unabashed about committing acts of murder and mayhem to get what she wanted. He had seen her do terrible things without batting a lash. So it was no surprise that necromancy would to little to stir her nonexistent conscience.

Adelbert suddenly stood up from his seat, brushing invisible debris from his trousers. The glint in his eye had changed from arrogant contentment to something else. Something that sent chills down Keenan's spine, something he had seen before between sacrifices.

"I think I'm going to pay my little pet a visit," Adelbert drawled. "One last go 'round before the big moment."

He turned and walked toward the basement door, but not before giving Keenan an absolutely awful wolf's grin and a wink, slipping off his cape in one graceful movement as he pulled out the brass key to the cellar, lust evident in his eyes.

Keenan shuddered. He never understood what Adelbert was thinking. Fornicating with the creature between sacrifices! It was sick, it was immoral, it was dangerous.

It made him jealous.

Keenan gathered his cloak tighter about his shoulders as if to shield his self from the intruding feelings he felt as he watched Adelbert's back descend into the black void of the cellar. He looked back into the dying flames of the fire, telling himself that it wasn't happening, had never happened, that Adelbert was just innocently checking on the creature to make sure he had feasted on the virgin flesh. But Keenan knew better and he gagged.

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The sound of the cellar door creaking open told Wolfram that he had fallen asleep. They were huddled against the back wall of the main room of the cellar. He had slammed the door of the adjacent room shut, they no longer wanted to see or smell, that macabre scene that lay beyond the threshold.

The mute was sleeping in his arms, comforted by Wolframs awkward embrace. He was shaking, caught in a nightmare, his hand gripping for dear life at Wolfram's sleeve. The mute had managed to calm himself after listening to Wolfram's gentle voice and touch. They had cuddled together for warmth and comfort, desperate for something, anything, that would give them reassurance in the closely encroaching, unknown future.

Old, wooden steps groaned in protest when heavy feet stepped down into their prison cell. Wolfram's eyes, unadjusted to the sudden brightness, squinted painfully at the beam of light from the first floor. He could only make out the massive silhouette of Von Grantz when the man paused at the bottom of the stairs, hands on his hips, assessing the environment that Wolfram and his mute friends called home.

"Well, haven't you two gotten close?" Wolfram could hear the smug grin in Adelbert's voice. He didn't need light to see the insane cruelty that lit those icy blue eyes.

"What do you want from us?" Wolfram shouted, hoping that Adelbert didn't hear the slight tremble in his voice that betrayed his fear.

"What I want is not of your concern," Adelbert replied smoothly advancing into the room. He held something in his hand, but Wolfram couldn't make it out in the darkness, though it felt familiar to him.

"Why can't I use my magic?" Wolfram demanded. "And who is this boy you have captured? Why do you need him too? Can't you see he's helpless?"

Adelbert let out a bark of a laugh that grated against Wolfram's last nerve and made his eye twitch uncontrollably. He hated it when people laughed at him when he was serious. It reminded him too much of his childhood.

"You can't use your magic because its been sealed," Adelbert chuckled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "As to your friends identity, surely you would have noticed?"

"Noticed what?" Wolfram felt the mute shift in his arms, apparently waking from the noise. The sickly boy coughed a few times as he sat up between Wolfram's legs, looking around wearily before settling on Adelbert, who was now just a couple of feet in front of them.

The mute, now fully awake, immediately stiffened and with uncanny speed stood up from the ground, yanking Wolfram up with him, ignoring the surprised yelp from the blonde, and dragging them both away from Adelbert. He frantically tugged at Wolfram's sleeve, but his escape was halted when they hit the closed door of the backroom where he had tried to hang himself. His way blocked, the mute whimpered and cowered behind the confused demon, trembling in fear at the large man before them.

Adelbert smiled widely, seemingly amused by the mute's panicked actions. "Now, now, pet. There's no need to be scared. It's just Master."

Adelbert reached out for the silent young man, but the latter just let out a squeal that made Wolfram jump and retreated even further behind him.

"L-Leave him alone, you bastard!" Wolfram growled as he positioned himself between Von Grantz and his companion.

But Adelbert didn't seem to hear Wolfram's demands. He only stared, a lustful spark in his eyes at the frightened being, hand still outstretched.

"You haven't noticed." It was more a statement than a question. Wolfram's confusion only deepened. Hadn't noticed what?

Adelbert's smile only grew. "Come, my pet. Why don't we show him?"

He advanced towards the couple, making to walk past Wolfram for the mute. The mute cowered even further behind Wolfram, trying vainly to become one with the wall. Wolfram, in turn, tried to block Adelbert, but the larger, stronger man, only shoved him harshly aside and with lightening speed, lashed out and grabbed a handful of ratty dark hair.

Wolfram tumbled to the ground, grunting when he collided with the dirt floor, hands clawing against the dirt and debris. He whipped around in time to see Adelbert dragging the poor young man towards the door, ultimately towards the thin pool of light the opening cast on the cellar floor. The mute boy made grunting, keening noises, just shy of yelping, as he was thrown into the light, illuminating his face for the first time.

For a brief moment, Wolfram felt his heart stop.

The mute boy stared up in fear at Adelbert's looming figure, his face was clearly visible in the dusty light of the doorway. He looked even sicklier in the light, which cast his face in a terrible grey pallor. His watery eyes had dark circles, his black hair dangled in filthy clumps around his sunken face. His clothes, once the regal black garb of a king's funeral robes, hung in stained tatters off his arms, legs and torso. Small, sharp teeth were pulled in a grimace when Adelbert gave his hair another forceful yank so that he faced Wolfram head on and the demon could look onto the features of his long dead fiancé.

"No," Wolfram whispered brokenly, horrified. "There's no way…."

"There is," Adelbert hissed gleefully. "I found it."

"What have you done?" Wolfram could barely feel his mouth forming the frantic words of his mind. He never took his eyes off 'Yuuri", never breaking the desperate stare the no longer dead demon king sent his way.

"What did you do to him?" Wolfram shouted, finally regaining his voice. "What did you do? Why can't he talk?"

The previous shock that had gripped Wolfram before now gave way to his growing anger and outrage at what Adelbert apparently had done. Years of grief pushed to the back of his mind came forth with a will as he was assaulted by the memory of burying his fiancé in those very clothes. He remembered those grey, hollow cheeks, sweaty with disease. He could envision perfectly the glassy, weary eyes, and chapped lips. Minus the layers of filth, Yuuri was exactly as he was at the moment of death when Wolfram held him that one final time.

Wolfram crawled, not trusting his body to carry him steadily on two feet, towards the trembling lump that was his Yuuri. A shaking hand reached out to touch him, to ensure his mind that he wasn't hallucinating, that his memories weren't projecting themselves onto the previously blank surface of his silent companion's face. But just as his fingertips brushed a trembling shoulder, his Yuuri was cruelly yanked back against Adelbert's legs. Yuuri, as Wolfram's mind named him now, whined in pain when Adelbert's large hand tightened its grip on his hair.

Wolfram glared up at the other demon. "You let him go, you bastard!"

"I don't think I will," Adelbert answered haughtily. "I'll never let him go. You had your chance with him and now it's someone else's turn."

"Yuuri!" Wolfram attempted to lunge for the dead man, only to be cruelly whacked aside by Adelbert's free hand. He fell to the ground with a harsh grunt and glared up at the other man. He lifted his hand, ready to summon his flames, but swore when yet again, that strange block hindered his magical abilities.

"What do you want with him?" Since he couldn't fight, Wolfram would demand answers.

"To bring him back to life, to give him the freedom he never had." Adelbert didn't look at Wolfram when he spoke, instead he gazed into the wide, scared eyes of his captive. He reached out to stroke a loose lock of dark hair, a mockery of affection as his eyes glazed over in his crazed lust. "You all left him to die. You could have done more, but you didn't. Still blindly following your dead king like sheep to the slaughter. Even when it cost you your precious Yuuri."

"What the hell are you talking about?' Wolfram shouted. "We tried everything to help Yuuri! Shinou had nothing to do with it!"

"You didn't do enough!" Adelbert shouted back, turning his attention away from Yuuri to stare daggers at the younger demon. "You summoned a couple of healers, then shrugged your shoulders and let a simple childhood illness kill him!"

"Tell me what else we could have done!" Wolfram cried, banging his hands against the floor in frustration. "Tell me what I could have done to prevent his death! I did everything I could. I summoned every healer, sought out every cure, remedy, and potion that I could get my hands on! If there's something I missed you tell me!"

"You didn't look hard enough," Adelbert hissed. "I looked and I found a way. I brought him back from the dead. You occupied yourself with looking at conventional means. I found alternatives."

"Necromancy? You used the dark arts to bring Yuuri's soul back from the dead! Forbidden magic! Don't you know the dangers?"

"If you truly cared about your fiancé, you would have done the same," Adelbert retorted. "And it wouldn't matter if it was dangerous or forbidden! That what's wrong with you nobles! You're too scared to break the rules! Too bound by your blind devotion to propriety and dead kings! I, on the other hand, have no such qualms. I am not bound by such stupidity!"

"But this is wrong!" Wolfram pleaded, looking at Yuuri, still gripped by his hair in Adelbert's huge hand. Wolfram couldn't tell if Yuuri recognized him or not, remembered anything of his previous life. But Wolfram could see the same care and concern in those haunted eyes that his fiancé had when he was alive. Yuuri looked back at him worriedly, trying to communicate through his eyes something that Wolfram could only discern as fear, dread, and a desperation for Wolfram to get out of there as soon as possible.

Suddenly, Yuuri broke the stare and began to convulse violently. Adelbert calmly held Yuuri's head in place. The dark young man made a series of disturbing gurgling noises, fingers clawing at the dirt floor, twisting and turning in Adelbert's grasp.

"W-What's wrong with him?" Wolfram demanded, his hands reached out to Yuuri, wanting to comfort him above anything else, despite the danger, despite the fact that Adelbert had them both imprisoned.

"It's the change," Adelbert sighed as if it were a mere inconvenience and not a medical emergency, as Wolfram saw it. "Let's go, pet. I want my fun."

Adelbert finally let go of Yuuri's hair. He deftly caught the flailing limbs and hoisted the thin young man over his shoulder with uncanny grace. He turned to walk up the rickety stairs back into the main part of the house, ignoring the continued gurgling and kicking of his captive.

Wolfram quickly recovered from his shock and felt a renewed courage when he watched Adelbert manhandle his precious fiancé up the stairs. He got up to his feet and stumbled after them as fast as he could. Maybe if he was able to throw Adelbert off balance, he could grab Yuuri and escape.

He leapt onto Adelbert's retreating back, missing the gangly limbs of his fiancé and pulled as hard as he could. Adelbert grunted in surprise, struggling to retain his balance with the sudden added weight of the younger demon and keep a firm grip on his captive. Adelbert swung around, knocking Wolfram off, but the demon prince bounced back immediately with a snarl and proceeded to rain punches onto Adelbert's exposed chest.

At first, Adelbert stupidly tried to fight Wolfram off with his free am. He quickly realized that idea was silly. Yuuri's constant struggling and kicking made it impossible for him to get a good hit at the other man. With a loud sigh, he callously dumped Yuuri to the ground, ignoring the pained whine as the frail body hit the stairs and tumbled to the ground. Arms now free, he tackled Wolfram to the ground with the intent to immobilize and preferably beat the snot out of the little brat.

Wolfram was a fast and skilled fighter, but Adelbert was stronger and much more experienced in unarmed combat. The two struggled against the dirt floor of the cellar, knocking over things and bumping into the heavy boxes, generally causing a ruckus that did not go unnoticed by the people upstairs.

Wolfram was quickly on the defensive, blocking Adelbert's blows, wincing when heavy fists collided with his arms, legs and torso. He carefully kept his head out of reach since Adelbert clearly wanted to knock him unconscious or stun him. Wolfram tried to go on the offensive by landing a punch of his own, but Adelbert got out of dodge and grabbed Wolfram's arm and twisted it painfully. He made to grab Wolfram's other arm, but the demon prince turned at the last minute and caught Adelbert's wrist between his sharp teeth and but down as hard as he could.

Adelbert swore and vowed silently to make the brat pay when Keenan appeared at the top of the stairs and promptly rushed down to aid his boss.

"Get off!" Keenan growled, yanking Wolfram off the ground and away from the reeling Grantz. He trapped Wolfram's arms behind the boy, effectively rendering him immobile within an instant.

Hurting and pissed, lustful intentions temporarily forgotten, Adelbert stood, wiping off his mouth, glaring at the defiant and struggling Wolfram with contempt. He stalked over to the restrained demon and rained down a few hard punches to Wolfram's exposed stomach. Wolfram crumpled to the ground after the fifth punch, coughing and dry retching in Keenan's arms. Anger stilled, Adelbert returned his attention to his charge who was, as usual, cowering in a corner backed up against some boxes, shaking and whining incessantly as Adelbert grabbed him violently and dragged him up the stairs.

"Y-Yuuri!" Wolfram wheezed, struggling weakly against Keenan's grip, while the other man jut stared at Adelbert's retreating form with sadness and disgust.

Yuuri paused in his struggle to look at Wolfram's prone body. He vainly pushed against Adelbert, but the man only gripped him tighter. He twisted around long enough to mouth a single word to his former fiancé, hand reaching desperately to him.

"_Hide!"_

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Chapter three.

I hope you are all enjoying this story so far. I had a great time writing it. There are about two or three chapters left and the revelation of Adelbert's plans will be happening shortly.

Oh poor Keenan, your lack of character development in the series made you a target of my creative liberties. Angelica as well. I don't even know if those are their real names. I just referred to them as Adelbert's gang or Adelbert's posse. I tihnk the woman's name was Angelica or Angela, I have now idea what "Keenan's" canon name is so for now they will be Angelica and Keenan.

Please review! They help me write faster!

EB


	5. Chapter 5

You're Not Here Chapter Four

Hello! Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! I'm glad you are all enjoying this story so far. I hope you find this next chapter just as interesting.

**Warning:** This chapter contains non-consensual sex, violence and death. You have been warned. This is _not_ for the faint of heart.

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You're Not Here Chapter Four – It Lives

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With a grunt, Keenan roughly dumped the still hacking demon onto the floor. The harsh coughing intensified from the clouds of dust kicked up from the impact. Keenan spun around and headed after his boss, ignoring the death glare he could feel drilling into his back from the captive prince. He slammed the door shut and turned the heavy brass key and shoved it in his pocket. He looked up with a pained expression at Adelbert dragging a convulsing Yuuri up the wooden stairs to where he slept.

No matter how many times Adelbert took the freak to his bed, no matter how little he actually saw, Keenan still wanted to puke.

In the light of the living room, Yuuri's corpse – Keenan refused to call it a body or any other word that indicated life in that condition – was in full view. The early signs of decay were visible on Yuuri's greenish white skin, his veins created purple spider lines across his thin legs and arms, the tips of his toes and fingers were purple from where the blood had pooled, the skin around his eyes was a terrible shade of dark blue, his hair hung in stringy mats, dirt and other debris hanging from the strands like weird ornaments, and when Yuuri opened his mouth – God! His gums and tongue were nearly black. How anyone could get it up for such a disgusting creature was beyond Kennan. Then again, Adelbert's mind was beyond him and beyond his boss for that matter. No sane person would fuck that.

"Boss?" Keenan called out hesitantly, noticing that Yuuri's buggy eyes had rolled far into his skull, revealing purple veined whites, one of the early indications of the transformation.

"What?" Adelbert barked, grunting when Yuuri began to struggle even harder. He had one hand on a clump of hair and the other gripped the tattered remains of Yuuri's funeral jacket in an effort to keep Yuuri from biting, which he did often.

"The transformation seems to be happening faster this time," Keenan said, trying to ignore the animalistic growls coming from both men. "Maybe, you should put him back in with the brat and let the thing eat him."

"No," came the predictable response. They seemed to have this conversation every time Adelbert wanted to spend the night with his creation. "Besides, I like him like this."

Keenan snorted, not eve trying to hide his disgust.

"Gives him more life," Adelbert murmured, not really paying attention to anything other than the slim body writhing in his grasp. He would have it writhing some more in a minute.

Adelbert heaved the body up and over his shoulder and lumbered up the stairs that creaked loudly in protest. "Make sure everything is ready for tonight," He called over his shoulder and then quickly walked to the master bedroom and violently shut the door.

Keenan got up from where he sat, casting a worried glance at the cellar door and made his way outside to help Angelica with the final preparations. The sooner they got this done, the better, and maybe then Adelbert would regain his right mind. Though even that was a stretch.

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With a grunt and a great heave, Adelbert threw the quivering body onto the thin, ratty mattress that had been the site of their earlier couplings. He smiled when his creation shot him an indignant glare from his perch on the bed. Adelbert watched for a moment as the creature seemed to have a war within itself as its true nature and the remnants of Julia battled for dominance. He liked watched the creature struggle. It aroused him like no other and made his blood boil for the little demon king.

Adelbert quickly divested himself of his vest and shirt, deftly undoing the buckle of his belt as he continued watching it struggle. His Julia could go through one or two transformations a night, depending on the sacrifice's will to live. The nature of the spell only allowed for a short time for the true nature of his creation to emerge in order for it to feed, if it didn't feed it would revert back to its harmless form to presumably conserve energy. At least that what Adelbert theorized from the old and yellowed pages of the necromancy book he read.

It was actually by accident that he discovered that the creature responded to sex. Upon further research, he found that the type of mysticism that the necromancy book called for based much of its theories in sexuality. Sex was symbolic of the natural flow of life and death. It was the joining of two beings, two opposites that bound together formed the world and bridged the gap between the living and the dead. It was through this philosophy that the spell had been based and sex was a major part of the spell's final stage and completion. It also came with a perk as Adelbert had found out one drunken evening when his lust overcame him and he stormed into the cellar and had his way with the demon king's animated corpse. Because that's all this creature was – a living corpse.

His Julia responded well to sexual advances. Adelbert could control the duration of the transformation – delaying or hastening, by employing sex. Sex calmed the creature, made its energy flow smoother though its form, gave it life and it thrived off of Adelbert's powerful thrusts and heated tongue.

Adelbert couldn't wait to oblige his little toy one last time.

Adelbert crawled onto the bed to straddle the shivering body. He leered over the skinny boy who tried to back away from him only to become trapped between his tormentor and the headboard.

Adelbert reached out stroke a strand of black hair and was rewarded with a terrible hiss and a clawed hand that scratched his cheek. He only smiled at the mildly stinging pain, chuckling in amusement at the creature's antics.

Suddenly, he swung his fist with all his strength and clonked it on his creation's temple, effectively stunning it. When the boy went still, he seized both his wrists and pinned them above his head. He leaned forward, a wolfish grin on his face as he stared into black, watery eyes.

"I like it when you're rough, darling," Adelbert whispered huskily. "Gets me hard."

The creature only hissed again and tried to bite Adelbert's face but his teeth only made a loud snap when they clamped down on nothing but air.

"You're feisty tonight," Adelbert mused. "Got something to do with your little friend?"

The creature froze, looking up at him with a mixture of fear, animalism, and hatred.

"Did you recognize him?" Adelbert questioned further. "I saw you cower behind him. Did you think he would protect you? I bet now that he knows what you are he'll want you dead. After all, you are the product of forbidden magic. You shouldn't even exist."

The creature, His Julia, continued to fight against the ironclad grip, trying in vain to break free and run away. Adelbert found his antics amusing at best and annoying at worst. When he saw the way his Julia reacted to the mention of her latest prey, he felt a tinge of jealousy.

"You're mine," He growled and then began to tear way at the dirty rags that hid the slim body from his view. "No one else's, and when you're better, I'll take you far away into the human lands where those idiots wont find you."

"N-n-n-n….N-n-n-n!" The creature whined.

"What?" Adelbert looked down in confusion.

"N-n-n-n-n…" His Julia seemed to be struggling to form words, but he knew she was unable to speak or that she had never shown any inclination towards speech.

"Julia…."

"N-n-n-n-n-…NO!"

Adelbert was startled that time. Did he really just hear his Julia speak?

"NO!" This time it was a clear shriek and not a hoarse gasp. "No! No! No! No!"

With renewed strength, his Julia began kicking as hard as it could. Adelbert had to use his weight to fully pin it down without loosening his grip

"J-Julia!"

"NOOOOOOOO!" it screeched, loud and inhuman.

After a few minutes of fighting, Adelbert finally gained control of his Julia and as punishment whacked it on the head. His Julia winced but ceased its fight and broke down into shaking sobs.

Adelbert swallowed its cries in a bruising kiss, grasping its upper arms, pinning it to the bed with his full weight and massive form. He shifted his knee between its legs and rubbed against its groin to excite it, which usually worked when it became unruly in bed.

True to nature, his Julia stilled, its breathing changed rhythm to enthralled rather than repulsed. Its eyes glazed over as its instincts took control. This was another way of feeding for the creature and he was happy to provide nourishment.

"That's it," He grunted, still rubbing his knee against the growing arousal. "You like this. Don't try to fight it."

It mewled, half in protest, half in desire as the darkness within it embraced Adelbert's touch. Adelbert trailed his large hand along its sides until he reached the juncture between his skinny legs and grabbed roughly at the growing lump underneath the rags.

"Yes, you like it a lot," he grinned.

His Julia hacked. Adelbert tore off the rest of the ragged trousers and spread thin legs as far as they would go. He shoved two fingers into the tight hole, reveling in the hoarse shriek that came from his quarry. Adelbert placed another rough kiss to quell his love's cries.

Preparation was minimal, Adelbert could not spare another moment without joining himself to his creation. Grabbing the crooks of his Julia's knees, he pushed them up to its head and forcefully entered.

The scream was inhuman, it was horrific, to Adelbert it was exhilarating and it made his thrusts even harder and faster. His Julia squirmed underneath him and it wasn't long before its resistance became encouragement and its hips met him thrust for thrust instead of recoiling and trying to expel him.

"You always come around," Adelbert grunted, laying a harsh smack against a pale thigh.

Adelbert didn't savor the moment. It wasn't his style and they were short for time. Bracing himself on his elbows, he quickened his pace to a break-neck speed, hastening his climax, making his creation's cries even louder. It didn't take long for him to reach his peak, thanks to that instinctive, rhythmic pulsing of his Julia's heat around him.

Adelbert threw his head back with a shout as he reached his climax and filled his Julia with his seed. He continued thrusting as he rode out his orgasm, not bothering to worry if his pet came or not. It never did. Being dead made it impossible to come like a living being.

But his creation still rocked against him, drawing its energy from his ecstasy. Its eyes were rolled back into its head as it panted and twitched. Adelbert smiled as he leaned forward to kiss it as he withdrew.

"One day," He whispered against stringy black hair. "You'll be able to feel as much pleasure from being filled by me as I do filling you."

It didn't answer, Adelbert learned long ago not to expect one. He lifted the limp form into his arms, already feeling the telltale twitches of the early stage of the transformation. Now that its moment of sexual feeding was over the creature would need to satisfy its hunger for flesh.

Not at all fazed by the hacking and sickening cracks of bones rearranging into something truly monstrous, Adelbert gently carried his Julia back down the stairs to the cellar.

The stairs creaked under their combined weight alerting Keenan to his presence. Adelbert simply ignored the man, he had grown tired of Keenan's constant nagging and worrying these past few months and made a mental note to have the man dismissed from his party. Now that he had what he wanted, he no longer needed the simpering, love struck man.

Keenan said nothing as he walked past him and opted to stare out of the window at the rising full moon. Yes, they had little time now and Adelbert briefly wondered if he should have coupled with the creature so close to the deadline but quickly dismissed it. He needed release and he got it. The rest would come soon enough.

* * * * * * * * * * * YNH * * * * * * * * * *

The tiny streams of moonlight through the cracks and holes of the cellar were the only means of light that Wolfram had as he explored the cellar. After gathering his wits from the blow to his gut and his psyche, Wolfram felt that only way to ground himself and prepare for the worst was to investigate his surroundings in case he found something useful, be it information or a weapon, that could save him and his fiancé.

As he wandered aimlessly back and forth between the main room and the two smaller adjacent rooms, Wolfram's mind was still reeling from seeing Yuuri, in the flesh, if not alive, after nearly three years. He could remember the exact moment he had felt Yuuri's spirit leave his body as he held him that terrible night. He could remember picking out the funeral clothes, writing the invitations, speaking at the ceremony and watching them bury his Yuuri in the massive mausoleum where all the great demon kings rested.

He wanted to say that it wasn't Yuuri, he wanted to believe that it was just some boy who happened to look like Yuuri who became the unlucky victim of some lunatic's grief. He wanted to believe that it wasn't his love that looked at him with such fear and desperation as he was dragged away from him yet again.

But he voice inside Wolfram told him that it was his Yuuri, at least, it was once his Yuuri. Did that change things? Even if it was once Yuuri or still Yuuri, did it matter? The feeling he felt for Yuuri were still the same and still as strong as they were when he died.

He wanted to believe that he would never engage in the Dark Arts. He was the member of a proud, noble and law-abiding family. His magic was the good kind, the best kind and he would never abuse his contract with the elements to bring someone back from the dead. It was the first lesson he had learned when he became a fire wielder – death was always permanent and the price to be paid for power.

But had he been given the means to do such a thing when his grief was at its strongest, he wouldn't be so confident in his ability to resist the temptation.

Shaking away the thought and focusing on his immediate situation, Wolfram pushed open the door to the room full of bloody clothes for the second time. He never entered the room since the first time. He wanted to stay away from the gore and filth for as much as possible.

Sliding his foot into the room as far as it could go, Wolfram poked at a particular pile of bloody clothing. Maneuvering his foot, he lifted the corner of a torn piece of cloth. Underneath, there were bone fragments and rotted pieces of flesh. The lifted cloth released a wave of the putrid scent of decaying bodies. Wolfram dropped the cloth and quickly staggered back into the main room, trying hard not to throw up. After he gathered his wits, his curiosity overcame him again and he gingerly pushed the door back open. The cloth had been shifted to the side revealing more of the macabre debris underneath. Tentatively reaching down, he pinched one of the cleanest bones between his forefinger and thumb to inspect it. Wolfram found that the bone had been severely chewed and forcefully broken instead of cut.

"What on Earth?" he whispered, slowly rotating the bone in his hands trying to find other clues. He saw that the other bones and from the putrid smell, the remains hadn't been there for very long, less than a year perhaps. One of Adelbert's victims?

Who or what could have done this? _Where were they now?_ Wolfram scanned the little room, he looked over his shoulder into the main room. The only entrance and exit was the cellar door that Adelbert had gone through. There were no other means of escape from the cellar unless he gathered enough strength to punch a hole in the rotting panels of the walls.

His mind went to his first meeting with Yuuri, how he had saved the boy from suicide. Wolfram remembered stories growing up of about witches who used animal sacrifices for their spells. They would summon geists from the underworld and as tribute feed them stolen livestock to appease their thirst for blood. But the best and most difficult to procure sacrifices were always young humans and demons. Particularly virgins.

He could feel the blush creeping into his face as he wondered why Adelbert would want him then. Even if he and Yuuri never touched, the fact that they shared a bed for so long would have given anyone the idea that their shared sleeping space concealed less than innocent activities.

They had only made love once in their life. They were both so young and inexperienced. It was right before Yuuri caught the Valley Fever. It had been a busy night, one of hundreds of state dinners that built political ties with other countries and reinforced others. He and Yuuri stayed together, neither liking those kinds of events and neither liking the solicitous interactions with the nobility. They were each other's support and ally, making excuses or changing the subject when one became uncomfortable or visibly agitated. They had just officially become a couple and they were eager to stay close. When it was finally over, they retired to their room and Yuuri took Wolfram's hand and…

Wolfram spun around, nearly falling over into the little room when the cellar door was thrown open with a terrible force and a thin figure was hurled unceremoniously down the rickety stairs.

Wolfram hurried over to the trembling Yuuri – he didn't know what else to call the strange boy – as the door was slammed shut again and an unintelligible order was barked at them.

"Are you alright?" Wolfram asked as he knelt beside Yuuri to help him. He glared up at the locked door. Yuuri had been through enough. He didn't need to be manhandled like that. Deciding to forget about the rough treatment, Wolfram turned his attention back to Yuuri. The pale young man was coughing and shaking violently. Wolfram noticed that Yuuri was naked under the large, torn shirt he wore. Wolfram gasped in horror when in the small beams of light from between the wood panels of the cellar door, he could see bruises and a dark liquid trailing down a pale thigh.

"Oh my god," he whispered. "What happened?" Though he already knew the answer.

He reached out to touch Yuuri, but his hand was slapped away. He immediately backed away in surprise when Yuuri turned hard eyes on him. Yuuri then pushed Wolfram away, hard enough to knock the demon onto his buttocks.

"What's wrong, Yuuri?" Wolfram asked, confused and worried as Yuuri's shaking turned into convulsions and the other man collapsed onto the ground before him, twisting and writhing, face contorted in pain.

"Yuuri!" Wolfram pushed himself up to help the pained boy. But he immediately jumped back when Yuuri viciously snarled at him!

"Yuuri?" Wolfram was confused and a little hurt. He didn't understand what was going on, why Yuuri was glaring at him so harshly, why Yuuri was struggling to back away from him into the farthest corner of the cellar.

Yuuri threw his head back in a silent scream. The sound of bones breaking filled the silent room. Yuuri lay sprawled on the dirt floor, dust kicking up as he writhed in agony as his body was overcome by the spell.

Wolfram backed away, paling as he watched in horrid fascination as Yuuri's limbs stretched, his fingers grew claws, his eyes rolled back into his head, and his teeth fell out and were replaced by rows of needle-like fangs.

Wolfram backed away until he nearly tripped over a pile of boxes. Yuuri – or the creature, jerked its head up at the noise before settling flinty eyes on his prey. The creature growled hungrily as Wolfram tried to put some meager distance between him and this thing his fiancé had become.

"Yuuri?" Wolfram whimpered, hands grasping at the air ghosting over the boxes trying to locate some kind of defense against the thing before him.

Wolfram bit back a scream when the creature fully turned to him, its mouth pulled into an impossibly wide and malicious grin as it sized him up. It sniffed the air and hummed as it apparently caught Wolfram's pleasurable scent.

Slowly, the creature advanced on Wolfram, bones and joints cracking loudly as it crawled across the floor. Wolfram continued to back away, not daring to take his eyes off the creature even to see where he was going. He knew the minute his attention was elsewhere, the thing would strike him down before he had a chance.

Wolfram's mind struggled to form a coherent thought, all manner of reason drained from his psyche replaced by the primal urge to get away as fast as he could, but he knew there was nowhere to go. Adelbert had locked the cellar door, blocking the only escape route from his prison. Wolfram was stuck.

Mustering a tiny semblance of thought, Wolfram remembered the tiny adjacent rooms in the cellar. He tore through his memory for a mental map of the cellar, immediately recalling that the door to the room where Yuuri tried to hang himself was directly behind him. If he could get into that room and shut the door, he could save himself from the creature that was currently looking at him like a starving man looks at a succulent steak.

The creature continued to stalk Wolfram who moved with greater purpose towards the back of the cellar. Summoning a grace he forgot he had, Wolfram navigated backwards between the stacks of boxes and various items that were scattered along the floor. He didn't bother with stealth – the creature could clearly see him through the dark while he could not, judging by its effortless movements. The creature seemed to take delight in the little stalking game with Wolfram, grinning wider when Wolfram reached out blindly searching for any kind of weapon. It loved it when its prey tried to fight back. The panic and fear made their blood taste all the sweeter.

Wolfram reached back a final time and felt the frame of the door with his fingertips. He despaired when he moved his hand and discovered that the door was closed. He remembered that it opened inward. Placing a hand on the rusty doorknob, Wolfram continued to stare down the creature, silently calling for the sweet young man he knew was there.

This would have to be quick, he didn't know the creature's reflexes, but he thought it best to assume they were as good as his - if not better. He would have to be as fast as possible with an element of surprise.

Wolfram made a tiny gasp when his back hit the shut door. The creature smiled, having cornered his target. Never breaking the gleefully violent gaze from his own, Wolfram grasped the doorknob, hiding the action with his body. Something told him that while the creature was violent and cruel, it still possessed a human-like intellect and could best him. He didn't have a moment to spare.

The creature drew within a few feet of him, eyes glittering despite the darkness, those eyes that bore into the depths of Wolfram's soul, filling him with a white hot fear. His fist shook as it grasped the doorknob as his knees threatened to buckle from the intensity of the creature's stare. The creature grinned even wider, as if it had caught onto Wolfram's scheme. It made a noise between a growl and a purr. Wolfram swore he heard a chuckle underneath the sound.

One word shot through Wolfram's mind.

Now!

Turning the knob with all his might, Wolfram shoved his shoulder back into the door pushing it open and nearly falling through the opening. He stumbled back into the tiny room with the intent of slamming the door shut on the creature as soon as he was inside.

The creature seemed to realize Wolfram's intentions and was delighted. A shrill screech tore from its grotesque mouth and it leaped after Wolfram. It caught Wolfram by the ankle and crawled up the screaming demon's body, pinning him down inside the little room.

Wolfram didn't think that it was his fiancé that he was reigning blow after blow upon, he thought nothing of screaming as loud as he could and kicking the creature with every once of strength he could muster. The creature screamed in kind and sharp claws tore into Wolfram's tattered clothes. It leaned in close, its face just an inch or two from his, and growled hungrily as Wolfram continued to struggle.

Wolfram nearly went blind with the rank smell that assaulted his nose and nearly rendered him helpless before the creature. It was every rank and horrid smell any human being could ever imagine. It was rotting corpses and sulfur rolled into one. It was on the creature's breath, dripping from its fangs, it was on its skin, slimy and cold. It was the smell of death in all its glory and it meant to claim him as its next victim.

The creature attacked him wildly, laughing and hacking its glee. Wolfram scooted back, dragging it with him into the room, trying to form a new course of action in the mayhem. What was meant to be a safe haven now became a prison as he was partially trapped in the small room. If Wolfram could just shove the thing off him and gain some footing, maybe he could fight his way out.

In a miraculous turn of events, Wolfram saw an opening in the creature's frantic clawing and landed a hard kick square into its gut. Caught off guard, the creature recoiled in pain, growling viciously at its prey.

Not wasting another second, Wolfram scurried to his feet just as the creature recovered from the blow. As he stood up, Wolfram's hand landed on something cold, slender, and heavy.

The pipe from earlier!

Thanking the gods, Wolfram grabbed the pipe just as the creature leaped at him again. Swinging the pipe like a bat – just the way Yuuri had taught him – Wolfram caught the creature right in the jaw, sending it flying to the side and into a rickety shelf of dirty bottles.

The room echoed with the sounds of indignant screeching and breaking glass. The creature scrambled to its feet, but Wolfram didn't give it time to recover before he rained a series of vicious blows on to the creature's skinny body.

The creature went on the defensive, albeit dazedly, not used to having its prey gain the upper hand. It was used to its food regressing to a pile of sobbing and pained filled cries, not this hard-handed fighter before it. Sneering as it backed away, it tried vainly to grab at the stick, but Wolfram merely flicked the pipe and dislodged its grip. Wolfram continued to deliver blow after blow, not thinking or aiming his strikes, only beating the creature away as much as he could.

The creature gave a horrid yowl and scurried back. Wolfram directed his blows in such a way that he gradually guided it towards the still open door. With a great cry and one final lunge, Wolfram whacked the creature clean across the head. The creature flew back, gripping its wounded eye with both hands. It snarled and screamed at the demon who held the pipe aloft, ready for another attack. The creature gnashed its teeth at him, reeling up on its legs, claws outstretched angrily.

"Go away!" Wolfram shouted. "Back the fuck off!" At the last word, Wolfram swung the pipe again and this time hit the creature on the ear. The creature's other hand flew to the now bleeding ear and finally began to back away from Wolfram and back into the main cellar.

Wolfram kicked at it again in the jaw. He didn't want to give the creature any incentive to stick around so he swung his pipe at it at every opportunity until it had grudgingly retreated into the cellar. Wolfram leaped for the door and shut it on the creature. Pushing and slamming it on whatever part of the creature hadn't made it all the way out yet, until it gave a frustrated howl and yanked the rest of its body through the door allowing Wolfram to slam it shut, effectively placing a barrier between him and it.

Wolfram's fear wouldn't let him ease up on the door. He dug his heels in and pressed against it with all his strength, sobs wracking his body as he heard the creature gather its wits and release a terrifying scream before it rammed the door, nearly knocking Wolfram backwards who dug his heels in even more.

The creature was furious – no, it was livid. Never had its prey had the nerves to fight against it! The pain of its lust and hunger were tearing at its insides as it attacked the closed door in a blind rage. Time was running short for the creature. It needed one more kill, one more sacrifice before it could enter the living world fully. Its claws carved deep scratches into the old wood, little chips fling in every direction. The creature slammed at the door, the hinges rattled. Wolfram kept pushing back all the while fearing the door would give way and he would fall into the creature's gasp. Wolfram braced himself every time he heard the creature gear up for another attack.

He didn't know when it started or what made him notice, but Wolfram could hear his sobs and choked cries every time the creature slammed into the door and the hinges creaked in protest. His years of training as a soldier melted away as his fear consumed him. He cried because he had no other way to get rid of the emotions that welled up inside him. Fear, anger, confusion, frustration, and guilt. Fear and anger at the dumb decisions and bad luck that led him here. Confusion, because his mind told him that the thing attacking him was his beloved fiancé turned into some perverted geist and no matter what logic told him, he couldn't bring himself to not think that he had just severely injured his fiancé. Frustration, because he had no means of escape or survival except for some rotted wooden door and a pipe. He felt guilt because he had beaten his fiancé with said metal pipe. Even if it wasn't Yuuri now, he feared that his fiancé would have to suffer the injuries if he ever regained control.

The incessant ramming died down into shrieks and yells as the creature retreated back into the depths of the cellar. Still, Wolfram didn't let up his push on the door, which was now significantly weakened and thinned from the attacks and unfit if the creature decided to return.

Wolfram heard something like a cross between a growl and a moan and then a dull thump outside the tiny room. Slowly, he allowed his body to relax out of its tense stance and slide to the floor. Once relaxed, his mind finally let go and allowed the shock, and fear consume him until he was nothing more than a sobbing mess.

Wolfram didn't know how long he had stayed there slumped against the rickety door, just crying. Once he started, he found that he couldn't stop. Every attempt to reign in his emotions only worsened his pain. Years and years of keeping his feelings to himself, not being allowed to convey his grief and sadness coupled with the terror he had endured that night came crashing down and broke through his defenses leaving him helpless and unable to do anything.

What little coherence his mind could conjure up in that moment was fleeting images of his family and of Yuuri. He desperately wanted to have his mother there to comfort him with sweet words and bear hugs, he needed his brothers to come and save him, yet again, from something of his own stupidity. Most of all, he wanted Yuuri to be there with his gentle smile and kind eyes, taking Wolfram in his arms and tucking him under down covers, whispering loving words and bestowing sweet kisses to his brow and mouth, loving him in ways no one else ever could.

It could have been hours, it had most likely been just minutes, but Wolfram's loud cries gradually dissolved into painful hiccups. His body collapsed even more against the support of the door from exhaustion. His eyes burned from his hot tears, strips of hair were plastered to his face from sweat, he felt completely and utterly drained, a shell of the calm and dignified Bielefeld heir.

A dull thump sounded outside the door and Wolfram's defenses were up, albeit much weaker than before. He went completely still when the thump was followed by clumsy shuffling about the room. He listened as the shuffling movements went from one side of the room to the next. The movement stopped and was replaced by a mournful whine that Wolfram instantly recognized as Yuuri. The whining continued as the shuffling restarted and the other man wandered about aimlessly as Wolfram listened from behind his only protection.

The sounds coming from Yuuri were so sad and pitiful that Wolfram was tempted to go out and comfort him. But, Wolfram was also scared. It could be a trick of Adelbert or the creature.

Wolfram paused when the whining turned into full-blown crying. His heart broke from the heart-wrenching sound. Despite the danger of the creature, he knew that it was his Yuuri out there.

Lifting himself on shaking legs, Wolfram steeled himself and slowly opened the door.

The cellar was still the same. The light from the moon showing through the crack and holes had shifted, casting more of the room in pale streams of light. Wolfram could make out the toppled stacks of crates and debris strewn about the floor. He cautiously stepped over the obstructing objects and made his way to the other side, where Yuuri was hunched over, crying and fumbling with a length of rope.

"Yuuri?" Wolfram mouthed, only air coming from his mouth and no sound.

But Yuuri must have heard him, for the cursed man immediately stilled and looked up at Wolfram with fear and guilt.

Wolfram looked down to see what Yuuri had been fiddling with in his hands. His heart broke even more for his fiancé when he saw the end of the rope was fashioned into a crude noose.

"That's why I found you like that earlier, isn't it?" Wolfram asked. Kneeling in front of Yuuri, despite his instincts telling him to run. Wolfram wanted to inform his instincts that there was nowhere to go.

Yuuri looked down at the noose in his hand and looked back up with a slow nod. Wolfram sighed and reached for the rope, intending to take it away from him. He didn't want Yuuri to kill himself, even if it might have been for the better. Yuuri yanked the rope out of Wolfram's reach and shuffled away from him.

"Why?" Wolfram pleaded, following Yuuri even though the other man backed up every time he got close. "What did he do to you, Yuuri?"

Yuuri mouthed something that Wolfram couldn't make out in the dim light. "I don't understand you."

Yuuri stopped as if in thought. He stood up from his crouched position and cast the rope aside. Wolfram watched Yuuri limp back towards the other adjacent room with the tub and bloody clothes. The undead king rummaged through a shelf and pulled out a dusty object and limped back to where Wolfram sat.

He blew the dust off the object and handed it to Wolfram. From the texture and the dim light, Wolfram realized it was a book. An old, tattered book that was falling apart at the spine.

Wolfram was about to ask as to why he had been given a book, when Yuuri stood up and scratched at a particularly rotted section of wood in the cellar wall. He managed to curl his fingers around a jutting edge and with a grunt pulled at the wood until it gave way to a large stream of moonlight. Yuuri continued to tear at the wall until there was a wide pool of light cast on the dirtied floor, bright enough to read.

Wolfram peered up through the hole where the wall met the ceiling. He could see overgrown grass leaning into the hole and a part of the sky. He thought and then quashed the thought of the possibility that the hole was big enough to fit through – it wasn't and the rest of the wood didn't look rotten enough for the hole to be widened with just their bare hands.

Yuuri took the book from Wolfram and flipped through the pages until he came to a particular passage. He then handed it back to Wolfram and sat back on his heels, waiting patiently.

Wolfram looked at the other man in slight confusion, but when Yuuri made no move to enlighten him, Wolfram began to read the passage.

_A sacrifice equal to that of the deceased must be gathered and given over the demon in order for the deceased to be summoned back from the other side. It is imperative that the first sacrifice must be a virgin and of demon blood – the gender is of no importance. After this first sacrifice, it is best to ensure that the rest of the sacrifice (if more are needed) be of the same virtue as that of the first sacrifice. If this is not possible, the only way to satisfy this requirement is to use a sacrifice that the deceased has been intimate with. This usually means people of the deceased's bloodline or a spouse. The substitute must have some of the deceased's essence inside them in order for the virgin requirement to be by-passed. The final sacrifice must be given on the eve of the next full moon or harvest moon, whichever comes first. The demon inhabiting the body must be fed the sacrifices every full moon when the beast awakens until all sacrifices have been given. Only then can the summoning ritual be performed and the deceased returned to the world of the living._

The next page was a diagram of the altar for the ritual. Wolfram noted that it was decorated heavily with roses and poison ivy and built just like the altar in Shinou's Temple. Wolfram looked up from the passage to see the sad face of his fiancé before him.

"This is what Adelbert is trying to do?" Wolfram asked in disbelief. "He wants to resurrect you?"

Yuuri nodded.

Wolfram was aghast. "But-but this is black magic! It's forbidden! He shouldn't even be able to use this kind of power, only a sage or priestess could even attempt to access this kind of magic. Such magic requires a connection with the spirit world not just the elements!"

Yuuri only shrugged and continued to stare at the book. Wolfram growled in frustration and another question popped in his mind.

"How did you get a hold of this?"

Yuuri froze and looked away from him in shame. He stared into the hole he had made for a very long time. Only the occasional cough broke the silence. His dull eyes reflected the light of the moon, but there was emptiness in them. They were lifeless and blank, the eyes of the dead.

Finally, Yuuri turned very slowly to regard his companion. Wolfram watched the light glint across his dark eyes. For the first time, Wolfram got a better look at the face of his fiancé and was momentarily struck silent. It was Yuuri, but it wasn't Yuuri. In the light, he could see the dark, sunken flesh around his eyes, the pale blue tinge to his skin, the thin, dry lips pressed into a permanent frown – nothing at all like the vibrant king he fell in love with. This was a shell, a mere shadow of what he had been. It was nothing more than an animated corpse.

Wolfram was filled with disgust and fear of Yuuri when the idea that this was merely his fiancé's body and not Yuuri himself dawned on him. This was some wraith in his fiancé's body. Wolfram couldn't even have the joy of being reunited with his love. This was even more painful than Yuuri's death. It didn't have the cold sting of disappointment and betrayal like this one.

Yuuri shifted, calling Wolfram's attention. Yuuri leaned over to Wolfram, not faltering when the blonde man visibly flinched, taking a strand of hair between his fingers and shaking it gently. Yuuri then pointed to the ceiling – the floor of the cabin above them and then leaned back on his hands and thrusted his hips in a very suggestive manner and then pointed up again.

It took a moment for Wolfram to think past Yuuri's gyrating hips before he was able to make the connection. "Adelbert violated you."

Yuuri – or the thing that looked like Yuuri – nodded and then placed his hands beneath his cheek to mimic sleep. He paused for a moment and then straightened, reaching for some invisible object in the air before tucking the imaginary object into his torn tunic.

"You stole it while he was asleep." Another nod.

Wolfram couldn't help but smile. "You're not a mindless toy like Adelbert thinks you are, are you?"

Yuuri made a sound of disgust and shook his head vigorously.

Wolfram lifted the book towards Yuuri. "So you understand this? You know what he's trying to do?"

Yuuri stared at the outstretched look for a moment and then gave a half shrug. He reached out and opened the book, still in Wolfram's hands, to the page with the diagram of the altar.

"You just know he's up to no good." Wolfram supplied.

Yuuri nodded. Wolfram wondered if Yuuri ever tried to speak or if Adelbert had placed another spell on him to keep him quiet.

Yuuri sat back and raised his hands. He counted five, then nine fingers. He pointed to Wolfram emphatically before counting the tenth finger.

It confirmed Wolfram's buried fears and he was nearly sick to his stomach. "This is the last full moon," he whispered brokenly, clutching the book like a lifeline as realization hit him. "I'm the last one."

Yuuri frowned sadly and reached out to stroke Wolfram's shoulder in an attempt at comfort.

"So that's it?" Wolfram said, anger creeping into his voice. Anger was easier to deal with than fear. "I'm just going to sit here until you turn into that thing and kill me? There's nothing I can do?"

Yuuri recoiled immediately at Wolfram's outburst. He made a pitiful keening noise and then dry-sobbed.

"This is madness!" Wolfram said, standing up as his anger grew. "He can't do this to us! I never liked Adelbert before but I never thought he would do something like this! A selfish, disgusting, egotistical cur! Does he think he's the only one who is hurt! Other people loved you! _I loved you!_ You were everything to me. Don't my feelings matter?"

Wolfram fell to his knees, fighting back tears and running his hands through his hair. "My feelings never mattered. I couldn't even grieve in peace before everyone came in with their two cents worth. Telling me how sad they were, how disappointed, but no one ever stopped to think about my feelings! I spent three years hiding my emotions from everyone, even though it felt like I was rotting from the inside. My life was hell after you died and now I'm stuck trapped in a basement with a blood-thirsty monster!"

Wolfram cut himself off with a growl. What was the point in ranting now? No one was here to hear him except a mute corpse. He hated this, hated himself and whatever powers that led him t this morbid place.

Wolfram looked at where Yuuri sat. The creature was kneeling looking down at the ground in sadness or shame, he couldn't tell. The wraith's shoulders were shaking and little coughs and whimpers came from pale lips. He had heard everything and the demon realized what he had said in front of the other man.

He felt instantly guilty. He didn't think about how this affected Yuuri or how much he understood the situation, probably as little or less than Wolfram. Wolfram moved closer to Yuuri. He reached out and gently stroked Yuuri's cheek. The other man looked up at him with sad, questioning eyes, but leaned into the touch when Wolfram cupped his face with both hands.

"I'm so sorry," Wolfram whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry I said that. I'm so sorry this happened to you."

Yuuri looked at him from between Wolfram's hands. He grasped Wolfram's wrists gently with cold hands, keeping the warm touch close to him. It had been so long since someone had shown him kindness or mercy. He knew only suffering.

"You're not a monster," Wolfram continued, drawing Yuuri into a sympathetic hug. "You could never be a monster. You're sweet and kind and gentle. You would never do something like this. You're being forced to."

Yuuri whimpered and buried his face in Wolfram's neck. Wolfram felt the little kisses and hands clinging to the shirt on his back. Yuuri began to shake violently in his arms with throaty sobs, but no tears came forth. Dead bodies couldn't make tears.

A thought dawned on Wolfram. "You remember every time, don't you?" He asked. "You remember when you….do that."

Wolfram felt Yuuri nod again and squeeze him tighter as the sobs grew.

"Oh, Yuuri. I'm so, so sorry!" Wolfram cooed and rocked Yuuri like a small child. Wolfram fought back his own tears as he truly began to lose hope.

"What are we going to do?" He cried. "What are we going to do?"

Yuuri suddenly stopped crying and pulled away from the embrace. Wolfram instantly missed the feel of Yuuri in his arms. It had been so long and he had needed comfort so badly that he wanted to yank Yuuri back into a hug. But Yuuri had already moved away and was rummaging around the floor until he found the noose he had been tying. Yuuri placed the loop of rope around his neck resolutely and handed Wolfram the other end, the look in his eyes conveying his intentions.

Wolfram dropped the rope like it burned him. "No! I-I can't, Yuuri! You can't make me do that!"

Yuuri whined and stomped his foot in frustration. He snatched the rope from the floor and stomped back to the small room where they had first met.

"Wait! Yuuri!"

Wolfram caught up to Yuuri and tried to snatch the rope away. The two men struggled over rights to the rope. Yuuri snarled and yanked the rope back with all his strength and sent Wolfram flying forward into him. Yuuri let go of the rope to catch Wolfram and the two stayed like that, panting and grasping at each other and their little section of rope.

"I won't let you!" Wolfram stated, even if he knew it might be the only way to stop Adelbert's plans.

Yuuri shook his head 'no' and pointed towards the rafter in the adjacent room, to Wolfram and then the door.

"You think he'll let me go just cause you hung yourself?" Wolfram shouted. "He'll just start the ritual over again and I'll just be the first victim! And besides, how can you kill yourself if you're already dead?"

Yuuri froze and dropped his hold on the rope and Wolfram. The demon caught himself and stared at his fiancé, looking on helplessly as Yuuri's despair got the best of him and the other man collapsed to the ground, buried his face in his hands and sobbed openly.

Wolfram fell to Yuuri's side and embraced him again, adding his own cries to the mix. He stroked Yuuri's ratty hair and whispered broken words of comfort to him. The two stayed like that, embracing each other and silently thinking of ways to get out of the perilous situation they were trapped in.

The door t the cellar swung open and banged against the wall violently, startling them out of their embrace. They wore matching glares as the looming figure of Adelbert blocked the warm light from the cabin.

Adelbert returned their stares. "What is this? Why are you still alive?"

Wolfram stood up to face the other man. "You…have got to be the most despicable, deplorable, selfish, cruel, disgusting excuse of a demon I have ever known! How could you have done this to him?" Wolfram gestured angrily towards Yuuri who slowly stood up beside him. "Can't you see how much this is hurting him?"

Adelbert was unmoved. "'Tis a small sacrifice if it means Julia will finally be returned to me."

"Return to you?" Wolfram was indignant. "He was never yours to be returned! This is insanity! If you loved Julia or Yuuri you would let him rest in peace!"

Adelbert sneered. "That's something only cowards like you nobles would think. You're too scared to realize that death can be overcome, even after the soul has departed."

"Yuuri doesn't deserve this!" Wolfram shouted. "You've turned him into a killer! He would never want that!"

Adelbert just scoffed. "Don't act like you wouldn't have done the same thing if it meant you could have your precious fiancé back."

Wolfram was shocked into silence. Would he? He banished the thought. He wouldn't, no matter how tempting the idea was. Maybe if it had been the night Yuuri died then maybe, but his brothers wouldn't have let him even contemplate the thought, even if he did. Disrupting the natural flow of life was dangerous and forbidden for a reason.

"Never," He growled. "Because I would never turn Yuuri into a murderer!"

"So you say now," Adelbert said, sauntering further into the room. He smiled maliciously when Wolfram placed himself between him and Yuuri. "But don't act like for a single moment you wouldn't have at least toyed with the idea. After all, what's a few lives when the one you love means more than life itself?"

"Never!" Wolfram asserted and blocked Yuuri even more from Adelbert's view.

The large demon just laughed. "He's not the one I'm after, Third Son."

Wolfram didn't have time to react when a large hand lashed out and grabbed him by the neck. Strong fingers clenched around his throat, cutting of air supply and lifted him off the ground. Wolfram's hand tried to claw at the vice-like grip but it was no use.

Without much effort at all, Adelbert tossed Wolfram to the ground like a rag doll. Before Wolfram could try to get up, he was pinned to the ground by Adelbert's solid weight, completely immobilizing him.

"You bastard!" Wolfram shrieked. "Get off me!"

Adelbert simply smiled and shoved Wolfram's face into the dirt just to spite him. When Wolfram sputtered and tried to yank his head away, Adelbert dealt a single, devastating blow to the side of Wolfram's head that left the demon prince in an unconscious heap beneath him. With effortless speed, he spun around and sat down on Wolfram hard so that he had straddling the smaller man backwards. Grabbing one of Wolfram's legs, Adelbert yanked off the riding boot, revealing a foot. Reaching down with his other hand, he pulled out a large hunting knife.

Adelbert was about to slice into the tendon when a high-pitched screech pierced the air and a dark lump tackled him, almost knocking him off his quarry.

"No!" Yuuri screamed hoarsely, having gotten over the shock of seeing his tormentor attack his only friend. "No!"

"Damn it, Julia!" Adelbert grunted, fending off the frantic blows and trying to not accidentally maim it with the knife.

But Yuuri was unabated. "No! No! Nooooooo!" He yelled even louder, his blows increasing as the pitch of his voice did.

"Stop it, Julia!" Adelbert yelled, dropping the knife and catching Yuuri by the wrists. Yuuri simply hissed and spat at him as he tried to break free. "This is for you own good!"

"No g-good! No good!" Yuuri snapped back, struggling even harder.

Adelbert sighed. His Julia was too sweet to understand that sacrifices had to be made if they were going to be together. It was something he loved and hated about her. She was too compassionate, unable to see to her own well-being. Too trusting and caring, that's what got her killed…twice.

Seeing no other choice, Adelbert let go off one of Yuuri's wrists only long enough to whack him in the temple with his fist. Stunned, Yuuri immediately collapsed in a heap next to the blonde brat.

Adelbert looked around briefly before locating a length of rope and without wasting a second, bound Yuuri's wrists so that when he gained his senses he wouldn't interfere.

Once ha had one trouble-maker taken care of. Adelbert returned his attention to Wolfram, who was only just coming out of his stupor. Adelbert was on him in an instant. Assuming his earlier position, removed Wolfram's other boot and socks and brandished the hunting knife once more against the sensitive ankles.

Wolfram groaned and barely registered where he was when a sharp pain shot through his leg from the tendons in his ankle. He let out a choked cry when he felt the knife slice deeper into flesh. Tears priced at his eyes when the first foot was dropped. He began to struggle when the second foot was lifted from the ground and the blood-slicked blade was pressed against it.

Adelbert glanced over his shoulder at the gasping blonde and then casually returned to his activity. "Can't have you running away. Julia needs to feed and we're short for time." With that he sliced into Wolfram's other ankle, rendering him unable to run away for good.

Wolfram's curses and pained cries filled the background when Adelbert stood up and wiped off his knife and walked over to where Yuuri lay crying and struggling against his bonds.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Julia," Adelbert cooed, stroking a patch of black hair. "Just needs to cut you loose is all."

The second the ropes hit the ground, Yuuri shoved past Adelbert and fell to Wolfram's side. Adelbert watched with a tinge of jealousy as his Julia carefully, maybe even lovingly, turned Wolfram over and cradled him.

Adelbert walked back to the cellar door and looked back to see his Julia glaring at him with the most vengeful eyes he had ever seen. He could feel the spirit in her bubbling up with her rage. That was good, it would speed the process.

"Hurry and come back to me, my Julia," He whispered before ascending the wooden stars and slamming the door shut.

Wolfram clung to Yuuri as the pain throbbed in his lower legs. His fiancé held him tighter, cooing and stroking his hair between cries.

"Yuuri," Wolfram said. "You have to get out of here. You have to…escape."

Wolfram felt, rather than saw, Yuuri shake his head again. "No!" Yuuri said sternly, emphasizing his point by hugging Wolfram even closer.

"This is it, isn't it?" Wolfram said. "We're not going to make it, are we? Or rather, I won't make it."

Yuuri whined and buried his face in Wolfram's hair. "No!"

Wolfram suddenly smiled up at Yuuri. "I'm glad you can talk again. Even if it's just one word."

Yuuri kissed his cheek and nuzzled it in agreement.

"I can't move," Wolfram said, staring down at his bleeding ankles. The damage was irreparable, even if he survived, he would never be able to walk again.

Yuuri tapped Wolfram's shoulder and pointed to the little room where he had hid before, a hopeful look on his face. Wolfram shook his head sadly.

"Even if I did hide in there, that creature would still find me eventually," he said. Yuuri pointed to the rope. Again, Wolfram shook his head. "I don't think that will work, Yuuri. It will only cause you pain and I don't think I can watch you do that to yourself."

Yuuri grimaced and pulled Wolfram back into a tight hug. Wolfram weakly returned the embrace and they held onto each other, bracing themselves for the inevitable.

And the inevitable did come, much sooner than they wanted.

Yuuri suddenly went stiff in Wolfram's arms and quickly extracted himself from the embrace. He started coughing and shaking uncontrollably as the transformation took over.

"No, Yuuri…" Wolfram couldn't help the fearful shake in his voice. Even though he had resolved himself to his fate, it didn't make it any less frightening.

Yuuri looked at Wolfram one last time. Fighting against the pain, he crawled to Wolfram's side, taking the blonde's face in one hand, he mouthed a single phrase.

"S-sorry…forgive me…"

"Oh Yuuri," Wolfram choked, the lump of fear growing in his throat made in nearly impossible to speak.

Yuuri opened his mouth to say something else, but the shock of pain tore through his body and he recoiled, clutching his gut and screaming out his agony. He winced and moaned with every crack of his bones stretching and muscles mutating into something terrible.

Wolfram let the tears flow. There was no point in stoicism now. Yuuri was gone now, in his place crouched the terrible creature from before, mouth opened wide in a grin, saliva dripping from fangs as it mewled in delight at seeing its wayward prey again, lying helpless and delicious at his feet.

The creature advanced on him, placing a clawed hand against his cheek in a mockery of affection. Wolfram stared into the face of pure malice, green eyes locking with opaque ones as teeth were bared and lowered.

"Yuuri," Wolfram spoke his final words. "I forgive you."

* * * * * * * * * * YNH * * * * * * * * * *

The creature truly was evil. It didn't even bother to kill him before it fed on his flesh.

His choked screams and pleas for mercy only spurred the creature on as it took delight in hearing its prey suffer at its own hands.

He could fell it, _he could feel it_ tear into him, its movements wild but calculated so as to prolong his pain as long as possible while it chewed on his insides. Cold hands rummaged through his intestines, tore at his exposed ribcage as it yanked bits of tissue from the bone and spine.

It had eaten a hole through his abdomen, broke through his sternum to lick at his frantically beating heart. His screams became gurgles when teeth pierced a lung and still, its actions were too careful to let him die quickly. It avoided damaging his major organs, merely rearranging them outside of his body as he busied himself with chewing at muscle and marrow.

He wished for death. Would have given anything to feel the cold drape of eternal sleep that would liberate him from this hell. He wouldn't have wished this pain on his greatest enemies.

Except maybe one.

Through the haze of pain and encroaching death, his mind clung to anything to keep it sane. It focused only on the disgustingly smug visage of a man named Adelbert von Grantz and it was this image that held all of his hate and suffering. While the one he had once loved destroyed his body, he wished for liberation and revenge.

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Oh wow, chapter four everybody.

Yeah, I made Yuuri kill his own fiancé in the worst way possible. What are you going to do about it? * fake gangsta stance *

It's all part of the story.

This story was rated M for a reason. I love my characters, I love KKM, but an author has to do what needs to be done in order to make the story work. And this is the only way the story will work.

That being said, there will be one to two more chapters left so this is most definitely NOT the end. Just hang on to your grits. I got your (and Yuuri and Wolfram's) back in this. Trust me.

Please take the time to review. Your opinion does matter and it helps me write better. Even if it's just to tell me what a sick, son of a bitch I am. I'll understand. Thank you!

EB


	6. Chapter 6

You're not Here chapter 5

Thank you everyone of your reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying this fic despite it's sickness!

Warning: violence and death

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Keenan was bent over a bucket, puking his guts out.

He cursed himself for being stupid enough to stay in the living room while the creature fed. He could hear everything. Every wet slap, every scream, every word from the poor demon prince.

Keenan had never stuck around to hear or watch the creature eat. He never wanted to know just in what manner the victims were sacrificed. Now he knew and he wished he could scrub his mind with lye to erase the macabre images his imagination conjured with every muffled shriek of pain from the cellar. He shot a dirty look at his love turned slave driver. Adelbert was reclined casually in a chair, sipping at that damned Gsuffa like it was music and not a boy's dying wails echoing through the small house.

It would end tonight. Those words were the only thing that kept Keenan from screaming and running away into the night. Those words kept him from swinging the butt of his sword against Adelbert's fat, smug head.

No it wasn't the words that kept him from turning against his master. It was Keenan's heart.

Keenan cursed himself again. Why? He knew – _he knew_ – that Adelbert didn't love him, that he was no good for him. Adelbert was an arrogant, violent, callous, selfish demon, who manipulated and blackmailed Keenan to do his bidding even when it wasn't necessary. Adelbert used Keenan, abused him, and mocked him. Keenan was Adelbert's back-up, his _faulty_ back-up plan, and, before Yuuri's body was stolen, his fuck-toy upon which Adelbert released his tensions.

Keenan had even deluded himself into thinking that Adelbert's touches weren't born of lust but love. He lied to his own mind that these rough kisses and violent thrusts were the inclination of something pure and heartfelt, but inside he knew that he was just a stand in for something better in Adelbert's mind. He knew it and he felt powerless to change it and didn't know why.

Keenan paused. It was suddenly quiet in the old house. He frowned in confusion and then realized that the muffled screams from the cellar had died down, only the crackling of the fire and Adelbert's fingers tapping the wooden armrest were present.

Adelbert slowly got up from his seat. Normally, he would allow the creature to collect itself, but time was of the essence and they couldn't spare a single minute if they were to complete the ritual before the moon reached its highest point.

"It's time," Adelbert grunted, beckoning Keenan with a lazy gesture. He took the keys from his pocket and carefully approached the cellar door.

With a grimace, Keenan reluctantly rose and followed his master into their self-made hell. It was his job to take care of the remains and clean up the blood. If he didn't, he would be on the receiving end of Adelbert's devastating wrath. Though he was far from a virgin, Keenan still feared that Adelbert just might find a way to feed him to the creature.

The two men descended the stairs, Keenan following behind Adelbert, while the blonde man held a lamp aloft. They didn't even make it to the third step when the stench of fresh blood assaulted their noses and the pools of Wolfram's lifeblood sparkled in the small lamplight.

Keenan bit back a gag while Adelbert smiled satisfactorily at the horrid sight. Adelbert smoothly descended the rest of the stairs leaving behind a disturbed Keenan. Adelbert resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his lackey's weak constitution. They had done this how many times now? Nine, and he still acted as if it were the first victim. How pathetic.

Adelbert came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. He stretched out the lamp just a little farther and was greeted with the sight of Wolfram's mangled corpse, lying askew across the floor, a ratty piece of cloth carefully laid on top of it to preserve its dignity.

Adelbert frowned. The creature had never done this with any of the other victims before. Usually, the bodies would be torn to shreds and thrown about the room when the creature grew bored and played with the leftovers. The creature never showed reverence for its prey, only malice and hunger.

A shuffle to his right and Adelbert turned to see the huddled, sniffling form of his creation shoved in a corner rocking back and forth. He noticed that his Julia's shirt was missing and he realized that his Julia had used it to cover Wolfram's body.

Adelbert stepped closer, casting the wan creature in the light of the lamp. His Julia was covered in the evidence of its feeding – blood and bits of chewed flesh stained the crooked rags it called clothing, bones torn from the trunk of the body and picked clean and severely mauled and the smell of blood clung around his Julia like a heavy cloak, marking his Julia as Death.

Adelbert came ever closer, ignoring the cowering figure at his feet. He quirked an eyebrow when he noticed that his Julia was shaking from sobs and hunched over, clinging to a piece of blue, stained cloth in its hands.

Adelbert found this strange. The creature had never shown such a reaction after a sacrifice before. When he came to collect the remains afterwards, the creature was usually unconscious in a corner somewhere and wouldn't wake for days. It was extremely odd to have it conscious and aware immediately after a feeding.

Adelbert shook his head to dispel the thoughts. There was no time for contemplation of his creation's newfound remorse. He decided to take it as a sign that their trial was near an end and his Julia was slowly but surely returning to him.

"Come," He ordered his creation, voice low but firm.

His Julia paused in its sniveling to glare up at him. Again, this was unusual. His Julia had only two emotions; lust and fear. Never anger.

"Don't give me that," He scolded. "We don't have time."

He reached out to touch his creation. The creature backed away into the darkness. This made Adelbert lose all patience and he roughly grabbed his creation by the tattered collar and dragged it away from the mangled body, ignoring the inhuman howls.

* * * * * * * * * * * YNH * * * * * * * * * *

The moon had reached its peak. They were just in time.

Dark clouds floated aside like a curtain to reveal the huge, full moon, filling the small yard with iridescent blue light. A cool breeze toyed with the trees and grass, strangely sounding much like a chorus of otherworldly whispers, curious and mocking as the three figures stood around the altar. They were dressed in black cloaks as dictated by the ancient ritual, arranged in a triangle and staring down at the naked, trembling form on the stone altar.

Adelbert's teeth glinted in the moonlight as he grinned in triumph. Tonight, he would have his one true desire in his possession for eternity. No meddling demons, and no Great One to rob him of what he deserved. He would have the final laugh at the fools who stole everything from him and tried to take it again when it seemed as if he would prosper. Not anymore. He would have what he wanted more than anything else.

Adelbert watched Angelica begin the ceremony. He thanked his lucky stars that he had someone adept at black magic in his employ. She was the only one who could fully comprehend the intricacies of dealing with the Underworld.

Yuuri whimpered when Angelica stepped up to him, shaking from cold and fear, and tugged at the ropes on his wrists vainly.

Angelica was unmoved by the corpse's antics.

Yuuri struggled harder. Angelica ignored him and took the bowl of blood and lifted it to the sky, to the Dark Spirit. Collecting the blood hadn't been as difficult as it usually was. The creature didn't seem to have had much of an appetite for his final victim. No matter, the more blood, the better.

"Blood of revival, blood of life," Angelica recited over the sacrament. "Blood of the damned. May you have life again."

Angelica slipped her hand behind Yuuri's head and tipped the bowl to his lips. Adelbert's creation tried to struggle and spit the disgusting liquid out but once a small drop slipped past his lips and touched his tongue, his attitude suddenly changed and he drank ravenously, echoing his other half as he drank.

Angelica dutifully held the bowl until every last drop was swallowed. She murmured the last verse of the spell in an ancient tongue and stepped back as Yuuri's body began to change.

"May you have life again," Adelbert whispered as he watched his Julia's body return to the living.

They watched silently, entranced by the instantaneous morphing of a corpse monster into a beautiful young man. Yuuri's skin returned to its buttery tanned hue, his hair was shiny and lustrous, his eyes, gums, and tongue brightened and cleared, looking alive and fully human. They knew better than that, however.

The creature - should they call it Yuuri or Julia now? - gasped, eyes wide open and staring up into the night sky, they could see new life, the life if the sacrifices, flowing through him as he returned to the living world, looking even more beautiful and ethereal than he had when he had been alive. He was better now.

The creature's body went slack once the transformation was complete. It breathed slowly in and out, but otherwise lay completely still, until Adelbert moved and it turned a lovely face to his master.

"It worked," Adelbert whispered in awe, as if a raised voice might upset the eerie calm that had settled around them. He untied the creature and pulled it into his arms. The creature said nothing, only looked up at him with blank eyes.

"You're so perfect," Adelbert held the creature tighter, nuzzling its hair affectionately. "Julian."

"Julian?" Keenan said with a raised brow and immediately regretted speaking when Adelbert shot a nasty glare at him.

"Yes, Julian," Adelbert hissed and then softened his expression, brushing away a stray piece of the creature's hair thoughtfully. "I always wanted to name my son Julian in the hopes he would inherit all my darling Julia's best qualities. It suits him."

Keenan didn't think so. He would have named it something like, Soushou, after the dark being that brought pain and destruction to the people. That was more fitting a name for this abomination, pretty face or not.

Adelbert trailed his hand down the length of Julian's body, the gesture turning reverent then salacious as it reached his supple hips, no longer jutting bones and scarred skin, now it was smooth, warm, and soft.

Adelbert was joyous. All the effort and pain had finally paid off and he had his Julia again. Julian, he reminded himself, it would not do for him to address his obviously male creation with a woman's name. He didn't care, no matter the sex - it was still his Julia, only a different name and body, but still his precious Julia. And still just as mouth-wateringly beautiful.

Adelbert swept Julian into his arms and captured his lips in a heated kiss. He shuddered in delight when lips that used to be dry and chafed were instead plump and pliant under his tongue. The stench of death no longer lingered over the small body but the scent of earth and renewal swept into his nostrils as he made love to Julian with his mouth and tongue. He growled in delight when Julian returned the kiss with just as much hunger as he. He completely forgot that they were outside and not alone.

A nervous grunt reminded Adelbert that his two lackeys were still present and gawking at them like it was a burlesque show at the local inn. He grudgingly broke the kiss to sneer at his companions. Angelica was looking at their display with an unreadable expression touched with a hint of voyeuristic excitement. Keenan looked at them like he was ready to puke his guts out. Again.

"Do you mind?" He hissed.

Keenan was the only one with enough shame to startle at his words. Adelbert rolled his eyes and scooped up Julian and carried him into the house.

"Julian and I are going to the bedroom for some bonding," He said over his shoulder, not really caring if they heard him or not. "Don't bother us."

With that, Adelbert left the two lackeys behind to dismantle the altar and bring the equipment inside while he got to know his creation all over again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * YNH * * * * * * * * * * * *

"It's been a month."

Keenan looked up slowly at his companion. Angelica was seated at the small table, wile Keenan tried to make his catch of two rabbits edible on the stove. He was trying to make stew with the few ingredients he could grasp. There were no villages to buy vegetables or seasoning so it was just salty rabbit water right now.

"It has," he replied. As he and Angelica had been left to their own devices while their leader had occupied himself with his creation. Sorry…Julian. They had been ordered to call it Julian now. Not creature, creation, It, Julia, Yuuri or monster. _Julian_.

"I don't like that thing," Angelica stated, crinkling her nose in disgust at the rhythmic noises coming from above that gave away their leader's current activity.

"Me neither," Keenan said, poking at a chunk of rabbit meat. "Dinner's almost ready." He said off-handedly.

"I don't like its eyes," Angelica continued and the hard-assed woman gave a very uncharacteristic shudder, but Keenan couldn't blame her.

Julian's eyes were not the eyes of a pure being. They were cold, feline, blank, and sharp. Those eyes could stare a grown man into frightened hysteria if their gaze was held too long. It had almost happened to Keenan. He had made the mistake of making eye contact with Julian only to have every fear and sorrow had he ever experienced in his life tear through his psyche and nearly leave him mad.

Angelica avoided Julian as much as she could, opting to spend her time following Keenan around as they did whatever chores they could make up to kill time. They were still in the same cottage they had stolen weeks ago, waiting for "Julian to gain enough strength" to travel according to Adelbert.

Keenan didn't know how Julian was supposed to gain strength with Adelbert rutting it out of him every single night.

"I don't like them either," Keenan said, stirring the pot thoughtfully.

"Do you think we'll leave here soon?" Angelica said, annoyance and impatience dripping form every word.

"I don't know," Keenan said with a shrug. "It's up to Boss and whatever he wants."

"As usual," Angelica sneered. "Why do we follow him?"

"Because without Adelbert's protection, we're wanted criminals in over a dozen countries and commonwealths?" Keenan sighed. He hated his life. "We're as good as dead if we leave him."

"This is so dumb!" Angelica hissed and was immediately shushed by Keenan. It was never a good idea to criticize Adelbert. Angelica quieted her tone but continued anyway. "I was an independent, respectable thief before I got with him! I didn't need protection from anybody! What the hell happened?"

Keenan could only shrug. "Adelbert had something you needed, I guess. Same as me."

"I hate this," Angelica pouted. "I hate _that!_" She jabbed a finger at the ceiling where the sounds of rutting continued like a droning background noise to the activities within the cottage.

"Me too."

Angelica ran her hands through her messy hair. "I did not sign up for this!"

"No one did," Keenan said. "And yet here we are."

Angelica only huffed and rapped her fingers angrily against the wooden table.

Keenan remembered a question he had wanted to ask a long time ago. "Hey, Angelica?"

Angelica merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"Why did you help Adelbert with the ceremony and sacrifices and all that bull?" Keenan was genuinely curious. He never understood why she would agree to such a thing, even if she was cruel and cold-hearted. It wasn't something Angelica would readily agree to and he had yet to see any indication of what she would get out of something like this.

The expression on Angelica's face was unreadable. "Same reasons as you."

It was an easy sentence to write off. A cop out. But the way she said it and the way here face softened for a split second before hardening into its sharp mask, made Keenan stop for a minute and then he knew what she meant. Keenan was speechless. She was just like him.

"Oh," Was the only thing he could think of to say and he turned his attention back to harassing the rabbit water to dispel the awkward atmosphere.

The tension was dispelled and replaced with a new one when the thumping from above ceased and a minute later the sounds of footsteps down the stairs echoed through the house.

Adelbert appeared in the kitchen, looking perfectly sated with a thoroughly ravished Julian trailing behind him.

Adelbert lazily scratched his stomach and smelled the air.

"What are you making?"

"Rabbit stew," Keenan replied. In reality, to call it rabbit stew was far too generous, but what else could he call it and make it still sound appetizing?

"Sounds good," said Adelbert but he meant the exact opposite.

Keenan caught the underlying meaning. "It's all I could get."

"No matter," Adelbert grunted, collapsing into the seat across from where Angelica sat. The woman immediately turned her head to look out the window where the full moon was beginning to crest over the trees. "We'll get something better soon enough."

"When are we finally getting out of here, Boss?" Angelica asked. She must have asked that question at least once a week only to get the same answer and Adelbert's annoyance, but she stopped caring a while ago. She and Keenan were sick of this remote place.

"Like I said before, Angelica," Adelbert replied, not bothering to hide his irritation. "When Julian is strong enough."

Angelica sniffed and cupped her chin in her hand and stared out the window. "He seems plenty strong to endure your advances every damn night." She muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" Adelbert growled, leaning forward in his chair threateningly.

Angelica stared unapologetically at him. "Nothing," she sneered.

They turned around in their seats when the front door opened and shut and Julian was no longer with them. Adelbert sighed and got up to fix himself a mug of Gsuffa to occupy himself while Julian went on his nightly outings.

It was something that Keenan had noticed the boy doing just a few days after the ritual. After coupling, Julian would wander about the house, usually in the cellar, or would go out at night and return after everyone had gone to sleep hours later. Keenan had brought this up to Adelbert, but the man had just brushed him off saying that Julian liked the fresh air after sex and that it was good for him anyway. Keenan found it irresponsible of Adelbert to allow Julian such free reign. However, Adelbert found Julian to be too innocent and uneducated of the ways of the world to wander too far from his only protection. Keenan didn't think so. He didn't think it wise to underestimate Julian's intelligence. Just because the boy never showed emotion or even spoke, didn't mean he was ignorant. But Keenan had no real proof of that. As far as they knew, Julian was just a strange undead boy that liked to wander outside at night, but always returned before dawn.

The only thing that disturbed Keenan was how often Julian would go down to the cellar. There was nothing there now for him to see, except old bloodstains and junk, so why he went down there was a mystery to Keenan. But Keenan wasn't curious or brave enough to go down into that cellar. Retrieving the blood of the sacrifices and cleaning up the mess were enough to make Keenan swear off venturing into the cellar, no matter how much he wanted to know what Julian was up to. He equated it to simple familiarity. Julian had spent so much time down there that it may have been a comfort to nestle among the boxes and bottles.

"What does he do out there?" Keenan whispered, staring at the door.

Adelbert shrugged. "He just needs time to adjust to his new life. He was cooped up in that basement for so long that he needs to be outside now to stretch and get some air."

"You shouldn't let him wander alone so much," Angelica said, regarding the two men again. "It's dangerous and he might get lost."

"He won't," Adelbert assured them. "He never goes past the tree line, just walks around the house and such and then he returns to my side. No big deal."

Keenan couldn't remember a time when Adelbert was so careless. He didn't know if it was the infatuation with Julian or a renewed sense of arrogance that made Adelbert lose his acuteness. Keenan immediately blamed Julian. Ever since the boy had been brought back to life, Adelbert had adopted this devil may care attitude and he was rarely alert or aware of his surroundings. He left that up to his lackeys and Keenan resented him for it. Their leader was now an oversexed fiend more interested in sex than procuring supplies or caring for his men. If Keenan and Angelica weren't wanted criminals in their respective lands, they would have left Adelbert by now.

The door opened and they all looked up to see Julian slowly walk into the living room and straight into the cellar without looking in either direction and shut the little door behind him.

Keenan turned around in time to only catch a glimpse of Julian. The boy had changed so much since the ritual. He had watched his body renew itself from weeks of decay and transform into a beautiful young man. Julian's beauty had only grown since then, making him something not of this world, but Keenan already surmised that, it was just different to see it in the flesh.

Julian moved with the grace of a cat with the swagger of a pimp. He never acknowledged Keenan or Angelica in the rare times they were in the same room. Julian only paid attention to Adelbert, but did so with an air of indulgence that made it seem like he was merely tolerating the blonde demon for the moment until something better came along. Julian's eyes were always watching, always assessing them as if looking for any sign of weakness that he could exploit at a later time. His eyes frightened Keenan the most. They were gates into another world, filled with a darkness Keenan could never fathom. They were always clear and alert, cold and cruel, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike. Keenan knew that Julian was not the complacent little pet that Adelbert wanted him to be. He was something else, something more dangerous than they could know. But Adelbert was too caught up in his own fantasy that he didn't see or chose not to see what was right in front of him.

Julian had to be destroyed.

The cellar door opened and Julian emerged, an unusually thoughtful look on his face. He continued to ignore the three other occupants and sit in one of the armchairs in front of the fire, gazing contemplatively into the dying embers.

There was something about the way he moved, something about the way he looked far more satisfied than ever before that alerted Keenan to impending danger.

Adelbert felt no such threat and got up from his seat at the table and sauntered over to where Julian sat.

"Here now, love," Adelbert purred as he draped his arms around Julian. "Find what you were looking for?" Adelbert let out a short bark of laughter. T was the same question he asked Julian every time the boy came in from outside or from the cellar and every time, Julian remained silent. Julian never spoke.

"So warm," Adelbert murmured, nuzzling Julian's black hair. "Always so warm. Will you not say something? Why don't you let me hear your beautiful voice?"

Julian, as usual, said nothing and shrugged off Adelbert's embrace and stood up from the chair in an irritated huff. He slowly walked to the window where the moon shown in full radiance.

Keenan and Angelica emerged from the Kitchen, stew forgotten, to watch Julian expectantly, the sense of dread growing in either of them as Julian stared into the night.

The silence was so thick it could be cut with a knife. The four of them stood frozen, Keenan and Angelica's hands drifting towards their swords at their sides, Adelbert watching Julian in mild confusion as Julian finally turned around to face his three tormentors.

Julian opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and the silence was dissipated with his low, throaty voice.

"I was innocent once," Julian said, voice barely above a whisper. "There was a time when I thought there was good in everyone, that all could find redemption If they chose it. I never knew the lengths some would go to fulfill their selfish desires. I never would have thought anyone would resort to such a thing."

Julian turned to face all of them. They were struck silent by the foreboding abyss that rippled behind his eyes.

"I never knew, how closely love and insanity worked together. I was so naïve," Julian shook his head in shame.

Julian looked at the three shocked vigilantes. He smiled at them gently and then frowned.

"Do you know how painful it was to be brought back?" He said, voice hard. "Do you know what it's like to be torn into a thousand pieces and then wake up trapped in a corpse?"

Keenan and Angelica's faces were white as sheets. Adelbert tried to speak but only sputtered. Julian sneered at them.

"I remember everything. I remember ever painful transformation into something purely evil. I remember every face of every victim you gave to me. I remember their screams and their taste. Everything."

Julian looked up into the distance, recalling every moment of his captivity. Suddenly, his anger dissipated and a terrible, cruel grin stretched across his fine features.

"I remember the joy I felt when my teeth tore into that first bite of young, virginal flesh. It was disgusting, it was delicious, and I couldn't get enough until I woke and my conscience returned."

Julian was interrupted when a sudden wind blew against the old walls of the cabin. The entire building creaked in protest as the wind grew in strength.

They tore their attention from the noise when Julian spoke again, still heard above the racket, though his voice was just as calm and subdued as before.

"I was a monster, until you brought him to me. My final meal."

A strange thump sounded from behind the cellar door. Something scratched at the thin wood.

Adelbert finally found his voice. "What did you do, Julian?"

"My only friend," Julian continued as if Adelbert had never spoken. "My love. My precious fiancé. My Wolfram."

The thumping grew louder and the scratching became more frantic as the rusty hinges began to give way.

Julian stared at them, anger and hatred emanating from his being. The wind seemed to react to him and picked up speed.

"You made me kill my Wolfram." He hissed.

The scratching and thumping was joined by grunts and snarls. Tiny chips of wood fell from the old door. They could have sworn they saw the tips of sharp claws peek through the newly opened cracks.

"What have you done, Julian?" Adelbert shrieked, backing away from his creation and reaching for his sword.

Julian only smiled. "Same thing you did. Only I didn't need nine virgins and a lovesick demon prince."

Julian calmly walked over to the cellar door. The thing behind the door quieted immediately when he touched the frame.

Keenan and Angelica decided to make a break for it and damn Von Grantz. They rushed the door but were stopped when an unseen force blocked the only exit.

They turned around just as Julian let out a bone-chilling laugh.

"You're so pathetic," Julian sneered. "Blindly following a madman who doesn't give a shit about you. How stupid."

Keenan and Angelica frantically looked between Julian and the blocked door, increasingly hopeless as their chances of escape disappeared.

"Did you know," Julian said, loving the way his victims were squirming. He reveled in prolonging their suffering. "That the underworld values tainted souls more so than pure? It's much harder to punish the innocent than the guilty. Especially when the guilty are so because of their arrogance towards the gods."

Julian's face stretched into a serpentine grin, malice and cruelty dripped from his sharp teeth.

The door to the cellar was torn away with a great shove. A twisted, growling creature lumbered into the light of the living room, stopping behind Julian's knee as if it was called there.

The creature was even more grotesque than Julian had been. While Julian had been an intact corpse, this one bore the damage of being torn into shreds and hastily put back together. Bits of skin and flesh hung from crooked bones. The head was tilted to one side from its broken neck. Strings of bloodstained blonde hair hung from an evilly grinning skull when the creature saw its three victims.

Julian kneeled down beside _his_ creation and kissed it as if it were a sweet dog and not a spawn of the Dark One.

"Hello, my pet," He cooed. "Are you ready to feed?"

The creature made a sound between a growl and purr as its master stroked its filthy hair.

Adelbert drew his sword, pointing it at the creature. His mind was a mess as he realized that he had lost control of the situation. He knew, albeit too late, the he had underestimated Julian and the Dark Powers.

"I will enjoy watching you tear them apart, my pet." Julian whispered, stroking the creature's head. "Make Master proud."

Julian stood up and stepped aside to let the creature begin his meal. He only smirked when he saw Adelbert raise his sword to the slowly advancing creature. Monster and master wore matching looks of amusement.

"This will not end quickly."

The creature leapt forward with a shriek of glee and tackled Adelbert, completely oblivious to the sword stuck in its side. It was already dead. Adelbert dropped his sword as he hit the ground hard. The creature was already biting into his shoulder, the sound of bone cracking was drowned out by the scream.

Angelica screamed and ran for the door with Keenan right behind her, wincing past the pain of breaching the barrier the grab at the handle. No sooner had she touched it that the knob grew unbearably hot and seared her skin. She jumped back with a yelp, but gave a stubborn frown as she tried to force it open. Self-preservation outweighed pain. But the knob simply burned that hand as well. Angelica yanked that hand back cursing her pain and panic driven stupidity while Keenan caught her as she fell back in pain. Keenan looked around the room, frantically searching for any means of escape, but finding none. They were absolutely trapped at the mercy of Julian and his creature.

A sickening crack and then a gurgle, alerted Keenan to where his former boss lay. Adelbert was lying on his back, eyes blank and lifeless, staring up in a mixture of fear and disbelief at the creature that loomed over his body triumphantly, blood dripping from yellow fangs. The creature turned to its two other victims and the grin widened as it crawled over Adelbert's body.

"That's it, my love," Julian said excitedly. "Eat, drink, live!"

The creature gave a cackle and with blinding speed, leapt towards Keenan and Angelica.

It took down Angelica first. Keenan fell to his knees as her screams echoed through his skull. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, filled with fear, regret, anger and despair as the creature dislodged its fangs from Angelica's throat and turned on him.

Keenan allowed himself one last shriek before Death sank its jaws into his neck and everything went black.

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Chapter five of You're Not Here. Only one more to go before it's over.

I thought about adding the final two scenes to this chapter, but decided it would be easier to break them apart, so that's why this one is a little short in comparison to my other chapters.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think. It's always great hearing from you and I thank those of you who have reviewed and continue to review. The 13th chapter of The Haunting of Yuuri Shibuya will be up in a few days. It's going through the beta process as we speak.

This chapter was brought to you by Super Beast by Rob Zombie. I have made it the theme song for this story. Check it out.

Best wishes - EB


	7. Chapter 7

You're Not Here

Thank you everyone for the reviews! This is the final chapter of YNH. Thank you for your encouragement and support.

Warning: graphic sexuality

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You're Not Here Chapter Six – I'm Not Here

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He woke to warm sunlight and soft sheets.

He slowly opened bleary eyes and moaned as he regained consciousness. His body felt heavy and slightly numb - like they weren't his. He propped himself up on his elbows to survey his surroundings.

The room was sparse but neat. The only other furniture besides the bed was a desk and vanity table shoved in one corner. Sunlight streamed through gauzy curtains over a huge window that overlooked a yard.

He tried to recall the night's previous events, but he could only see white…and red. His head was stuffy and sore, and his mouth held a strange metallic taste. But he had no memory of last night…or any night.

He didn't know who he was. He didn't know where he came from or why he was here in this little room. He didn't know why he felt strangely calm and satisfied, like he had done something great but had no idea what it was.

He searched his mind further and a single image popped into his mind. A pair of dark eyes. Beautiful dark eyes framed by equally dark hair. Pallid skin and whimpered words. Smelled of dust and mildew. Dark places, dark shapes. A toothy smile. Then nothing.

He frowned when he was unable to conjure up more memories. He sat up further in his bed, the sheet sliding down to reveal his nakedness. He didn't care. The room was warm and cozy, and he was alone, he didn't need clothes.

He looked around the room. Not like he could find any.

He stood up on shaky legs, teetered for just a second before he gained his balance and walked to the window. He pulled back the curtains to look into the front yard.

Apparently, he was on the second floor of a small cottage in the middle of the woods. He could see the bright green leaves of summer dotted by stray wild flowers. The grass grew in patches interrupted by a rock or disrupted mounds of dirt that Wolfram couldn't quite understand. The dirt mounds were large and arranged just outside the house only a few yards away. They looked fresh and were placed in a neat row by the forest edge. Further away, near the edge of the woods, there was the largest dirt mound of them all, three times the size of the others, and even fresher.

He continued to stare at the dirt hills, wondering their origin when the door he hadn't noticed before opened slowly.

He turned around to see a beautiful young man with black hair and eyes stroll into the room with a warm smile.

"Well, good morning," The dark man said, smile widening. He joined him by the window. "How are you feeling?"

He hesitated for a moment. Did he know how to speak? He couldn't remember. He must know something since he could understand the handsome stranger. He opened his mouth and formed into shaky words.

"I'm….good…" He whispered. "And you?"

His words seemed to amuse the dark man for he gave a small chuckle and reached out to pet his hair. "I am fine." He said with amused affection.

"Good." He said and returned to looking out the window.

The stranger stepped closer, looking at him intently. "Do you remember anything from last night?"

"No…not really…" he said, after trying for a minute to make some memories surface and coming up short.

"Do you remember your name?" The stranger asked, voice gentle and concerned.

He thought for a moment. Did he have a name? His eyes widened when a name did appear in his mind and he immediately seized it before he forgot again.

"My name…is Wolfram," He replied. "I think…"

The stranger smiled. "My name is Yuuri," He said.

"Yuuri," Wolfram liked the way the name sounded on his tongue. It filled him with a strange but pleasant feeling, like this Yuuri was someone he could trust. Someone he could love.

Yuuri nodded and drew closer. "Yes. Yuuri. I'm your guardian."

Yuuri reached out to stroke the soft skin on Wolfram's arm. Wolfram sighed and twined his fingers with Yuuri's when the other man's hand reached his wrist. The touch felt comforting and familiar to Wolfram.

"You've been asleep for a long time," Yuuri said, stroking Wolfram's hair with his free hand.

"Really?" Wolfram said absently, far more interested in Yuuri's caress.

"Yes," Yuuri said and then his voice became somber. "Wolfram?"

"Yes, Yuuri?"

Yuuri frowned slightly. "I'm afraid that soon you are going to remember some things. Unpleasant things."

"Like what?" Wolfram didn't like the way Yuuri's face darkened or how his hand stopped touching him.

"You will see," Yuuri said and then his face lightened again and he returned to touching Wolfram, who eagerly accepted. "But, I will be here to help you along the way."

Wolfram purred when Yuuri trailed his hand down his bare side to cup his buttocks and give it a gentle squeeze.

The warm glow in Yuuri's eyes turned salacious as he drew Wolfram to flush against him. He leaned forward to nuzzle Wolfram's hair, hands still wandering the smooth planes of his bare body. Wolfram slowly wrapped his arms around Yuuri's shoulders, going nearly limp in his arms and buried his face in Yuuri's neck.

"You'll never be alone," Wolfram could hear the vibrations of Yuuri's gentle voice against his lips and nose. "I'll never leave you again."

"Never again," Wolfram whispered. A sad feeling welled up in his stomach, a distant emotion connected to a time of grief and loneliness that only Yuuri could remedy. He saw no memories, only felt the sorrow of a time far away and out of reach.

But it meant little now that he had his Yuuri.

Yuuri pulled away to look into Wolfram's eyes. He smiled again and brushed away a stray piece of hair, scrutinizing every detail of Wolfram's lovely face. Wolfram turned into the touch, lips brushing against sensitive palms that sent a shudder through Yuuri's being.

"We can be together now. Like we always wanted," Yuuri's voice was little more than a whisper. It hypnotized Wolfram, drew him in and rendered him helpless. He wanted to be helpless. He wanted to be dominated by this mysterious man named Yuuri, who in a matter of minutes had captured his heart like it had always belonged to him. Maybe it did.

"Yes," Wolfram mumbled, entranced by Yuuri's voice and hands.

"You're so beautiful," Yuuri muttered. "So perfect."

Yuuri's hand dropped from Wolfram's hip and grazed along the lines of his pelvis until it ghosted over his half-hard cock. The touch sent a shock of pleasure through Wolfram that was surprising and addicting. When Yuuri's hand closed gently over the awakening member, Wolfram bucked slightly forward, wanting more.

Yuuri slowly stroked Wolfram up and down, twisting slightly at the tip until the organ was hard in his hand. He tilted Wolfram's chin up with his free hand and pulled him into a lazy kiss.

Wolfram responded eagerly, pressing his mouth harder into Yuuri's, rolling his hips into that skilled hand that worked him into a state of pleasure. His arms tightened around Yuuri's shoulders, aching with the need to be closer. Yuuri responded by lacing his fingers in Wolfram's hair and deepening the kiss, his other hand never faltered in its steady stroking.

Wolfram mewled into Yuuri's mouth and parted his lips easily when Yuuri's tongue traced the edge of his bottom lip. Yuuri's tongue wasted no time in asserting dominance over his mouth, twisting and teasing, wrapping around Wolfram's own shy tongue that followed easily the guidance of Yuuri's more practiced kiss.

Though his movements were slow, bordering on sluggish, Yuuri was still able to work Wolfram into a frenzy with each stroke. Wolfram channeled his desperation into his kiss, pulling Yuuri further into his mouth to communicate his need. He could feel Yuuri smile against him and broke the kiss, earning a despairing mewl from the fair haired man.

Yuuri ignored Wolfram's protest and focused on speeding up his stroke, coaxing little pearls of fluid from Wolfram's painfully aroused cock.

"Oh, Yuuri," Wolfram breathed. "Please!"

Yuuri only chuckled. "Wait, Wolfram. Just be patient."

"Please, touch me!" Wolfram whined, thrusting his hips into Yuuri's hand with more force.

"I'm touching you right now," Yuuri smirked, earning a lusty glare from his lover.

"Touch me more!" Wolfram ordered.

Yuuri grinned as if he had been waiting for Wolfram's inevitable acquiescence.

"Very well."

Yuuri took Wolfram's hand and guided him back to the bed. Wolfram followed him, aching for more touches and kisses from his new master. His entire being needed to be one with Yuuri at any cost, willingly submitting to anything and everything his master would bestow him.

Wolfram allowed himself to be manipulated into lying on his back, legs spread wide so Yuuri could stand between them. Yuuri took a moment to remove only his shirt and stood between Wolfram's knees.

Wolfram looked up at Yuuri, able to take in everything that was his master. Yuuri was very handsome. His features were exotic in their shape and color. Black shaggy hair framed his oval face and ghosted over slim shoulders. His body was thin, but toned, fit without being overly muscular. Wolfram's eyes traveled over tan skin stretched over long arms and smooth chest, down to a narrow waist and hips covered by a pair of black pants.

In turn, Yuuri scrutinized Wolfram's exposed body. Wolfram followed Yuuri's gaze to regard his own form. He was slim like Yuuri, toned without much muscle. But where Yuuri was tanned, Wolfram was pale with pink nipples pert against the cool air and Yuuri's intense stare. Wolfram felt even more exposed and excited under the dark intensity of those eyes. He instinctively offered himself up to Yuuri, spreading his legs even wider and jutting his pelvis up, cock bouncing with the movement.

Yuuri rubbed his hand along Wolfram's long legs, straying just shy of Wolfram's aching arousal.

"What do you want, pet?"

"Please," Wolfram was desperate. "Please touch me."

"And what else?" Yuuri asked, tilting his head o the side.

"Take me."

"How do you ask for it?"

Wolfram thought for a moment and then answered, voice and expression one of pure submission and desire.

"Please, take me, Yuuri."

Yuuri's grin was predatory. "Good."

Yuuri climbed languidly over Wolfram until they were face to face and Yuuri's chest was pressed against his own.

Yuuri trailed kisses and nibbles down Wolfram's chin and neck, stopping to leave a mark just above his jawbone and then continuing his way, Wolfram's sighs leading him on. Yuuri took a plump nipple between his teeth and carefully pinched down. The response was immediate. Wolfram cried out and arched upwards, sighing his name over and over again while Yuuri treated the other teat the same way. He licked away the discomfort, suckling for a minute before replacing his tongue with his fingers as he continued his journey downward.

Wolfram urged Yuuri on with roving hands and whispered pleas. Such simple touches, really not that remarkable in theory, were driving him mad from the skill of their execution. A lick here, a stroke there and Wolfram was putty in his lover's hands in seconds.

Yuuri continued on, lavishing attention on Wolfram's navel, twirling his tongue around and the tracing a line down to the base of his cock.

When he felt Yuuri's warm breath against his arousal, Wolfram suddenly felt fearful and grabbed Yuuri's shoulders to keep him from advancing.

"W-Wait!" He cried out, feeling the loss of the sweet pleasure, but he had to know.

"What is wrong?" Yuuri's voice was patient and gentle, he immediately stopped all movement and waited for Wolfram to explain.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Wolfram asked.

Yuuri responded by planting a small kiss on Wolfram's abdomen and gently stroking up and down his thighs. "Because we are bonded," He said. "Because you need this in order to thrive. Because, it has been far too long since we've felt each other."

"But I don't even remember!" Wolfram tried to protest but Yuuri's soft lips on his skin were entrancing him. "I'm not even sure if you really are what you say!"

There, he said it. Wolfram feared that his master would grow angry with him for rebelling, but he couldn't allow this to continue. He wouldn't couple with a stranger without knowing why.

Instead of reprimand, Yuuri continued his steady caresses. "If you need proof of our bond, just close your eyes and feel my hands on you. You may not remember me, Wolfram, but your body will. Lay back and close your eyes."

Wolfram obeyed and forced himself to relax, which wasn't that hard with Yuuri's confident hands trailing down his body. He closed his eyes and focused on every touch Yuuri bestowed on him. Surely enough, his body did react as certain points were stimulated and a familiar warmth mixed with the pleasure seeped into his being. Each twitch and gasp was carefully extracted by Yuuri's hands and mouth. This was not the touch of a generally experienced lover, but of someone experienced with Wolfram and Wolfram's body, expert in every twist, poke and rub that would bring him the greatest pleasure within minutes.

"You're so beautiful, Wolfram," Yuuri murmured, placing a kiss against the tip of Wolfram's arousal and then swiftly taking it into his mouth.

Wolfram arched off the bed at the powerful sucking. Yuuri took him in to the hilt, never faltering or gagging against the got flesh. One of Wolfram's hands twined its way into Yuuri's hair while the other grasped desperately at the thin sheets. Wolfram's head was thrown back against the pillow, mouth open and panting, doing exactly what Yuuri told him – remembering and memorizing each sensation.

Yuuri continued his steady rhythm. He pulled off until just the tip was held between his lips and swirled his tongue along the head and then the under-vein before taking it all the way in again. His hands squeezed Wolfram's buttocks, holding him firmly in place when Wolfram's pelvis instinctively thrust when Yuuri began to hum against the sensitive flesh.

Yuuri suddenly let go and stopped Wolfram's protest with a bruising kiss. Wolfram's mouth was filled with his skilled tongue twining about his own, swallowing every moan and plea as Wolfram's legs found their home around Yuuri's waist and the dark haired man grinded down hard.

Wolfram heard the sound of buttons popping and cloth shifting, he opened his eyes just long enough to see Yuuri toss away the remainder of his clothes and leer over Wolfram in all his naked glory.

Yuuri descended on Wolfram, enveloping him in strong arms and avid kisses. Wolfram fell to Yuuri' will, mewling and sighing on cue. He was so engrossed that he didn't hear the telltale pop of an oil bottle. He didn't realize until he felt gentle prodding at his entrance.

"Ooh…" Wolfram breathed when a single finger slipped easily into his passage.

"Relax," Yuuri whispered, moving his finger in and out. He added the second finger and began to scissor them. This time, Wolfram gasped loudly and squirmed. It didn't hurt, but it didn't feel good either. Yuuri held him in place with a strong hand on his hip.

"Hold still," Yuuri said, voice steady and calm. "It will feel good in a moment, I promise."

Wolfram forced himself to do as instructed, but he couldn't stop the tears from prickling at his eyes when Yuuri shoved a second, then a third finger into his new virgin body. He arched his back in an instinctive act to get away from the pain, he squirmed and his muscles clenched to expel the invading digits.

Yuuri noticed Wolfram's discomfort and took pity. He placed soothing kisses on Wolfram's hips and thighs while his hand gently lifted Wolfram's leg to sit over his shoulder to get a better angle.

"Yuuri," Wolfram whimpered in pain. "Please stop."

Yuuri felt pity for Wolfram. If it where any other time and if it were not imperative that the bond be forged within twenty-four hours of resurrection, Yuuri would have withdrawn and tried again later when Wolfram was more used to his new body. However, they didn't have time, he had already lost too much time when he allowed Wolfram to sleep immediately after the ritual instead of taking him right after. Wolfram had been so dazed and scared after his body mended itself and life returned to him that he had been in no shape for copulation. Yuuri had let him rest, but now they needed to complete the ritual before Wolfram's body disintegrated.

Yuuri kissed a line down Wolfram's pelvis until he reached the base of his cock.

"Shhh," He breathed against the heated flesh, earning him a shiver from his lover. "You have to relax. Relax."

Wolfram whined a little, but tried to listen to Yuuri. Relaxing became easier when Yuuri kissed a trail up his shaft and took the tip of his arousal between soft lips.

While the pain had yet to really lessen, the pleasure from Yuuri's mouth on him tempered his discomfort.

Yuuri swirled his tongue around the tip, pressing into the leaking head, gently nipping and kissing before taking half of it in his mouth with a strong suck.

Wolfram cried out, his legs were visibly shaking on their perch atop Yuuri's shoulders, his mouth was wide open in a greedy gasp for air, his eyes were screwed shut and his hands gripped at the sheets desperately. The pain was a dull ache, he was overwhelmed by Yuuri's hot mouth on him. On impulse, he began to lightly thrust into the hot cavern, gradually working Yuuri further down his length until the dark man obligingly swallowed him to the hilt with zero fuss. He felt Yuuri smile around his length and he cried out when Yuuri hummed against him. Wolfram moaned aloud and barely noticed when Yuuri started to move his fingers in and out, all three of them.

Wolfram suddenly yelled out when a shock of pleasure jolted up his body. He cried out again when Yuuri curved his fingers and pushed against a certain spot within him. He tried to speak, to ask what that was, but was cut off by his own cries of ecstasy when Yuuri repeated the action over and over again with increasing speed.

Yuuri smiled and added a subtle twist to the rhythmic motion of his fingers, making sure to hit that sinful little spot inside with deadly accuracy. Wolfram began to shamelessly ride Yuuri's fingers. He lowered one leg from Yuuri's shoulder to brace himself against the bed so he could impale himself further on Yuuri's skilled hand.

Yuuri could see the gradual transformation in Wolfram's behavior from behind the black curtain of his hair as he bobbed up and down on his pulsing cock. His shyness was dissipating and the telltale signs of his true nature were beginning to manifest. Wolfram's face was twisted into a snarl, growls bordering on aggressive were hissed through clenched teeth as he alternated thrusting into Yuuri's waiting mouth and rutting his fingers. Yuuri's speed never faltered, it even increased some as Wolfram's lust bled into him and he found himself giving into animalistic urges as he threw caution to the wind and violently thrust harder into Wolfram's tight heat.

"Oh…oh, yes! Yes! …Yuuri!" Wolfram cried out. "Please, more! Take me!"

While he would love nothing more than to suck Wolfram's climax out of him, Wolfram's words, and his own trapped arousal, reminded Yuuri of the task at hand. With one last suck, he slowly pulled off of Wolfram with a pop. He slowed down his thrusts, instead opting to lazily draw circles on Wolfram's inner wall just barely brushing his sweet spot.

Wolfram whimpered in protest and tried to push himself further onto Yuuri's hand, but Yuuri was already three knuckles deep and ready to move on. He compensated by crawling up Wolfram's body and captured his lips in a fervent kiss effectively swallowing Wolfram's pout. After lingering for a minute, Yuuri detached himself with a final peck and moved into position.

Wolfram watched Yuuri with half-lidded eyes. His body was still quivering from his lover's earlier ministrations. His hands were still clenching and unclenching at his sides, wanting to return the favor and touch Yuuri, but sensing that he was meant to remain still and submissive to Yuuri's actions. Anticipation swelled up inside him when Yuuri's dark pants slid to the ground revealing a swollen cock, just as eager and erect as his own. Wolfram couldn't help but spread his legs just a little wider, so very eager for what awaited him as Yuuri leaned over until their bodies were flush against one another and his cock prodded gently at Wolfram's opening.

Yuuri hesitated long enough to claim Wolfram's lips again as he slid his hands into Wolfram's wavy hair. He prodded Wolfram's opening, not enough to get in but enough to get noticed. Wolfram sighed into their kiss, following the silent command and slid his legs up Yuuri's torso.

One final kiss to his brow and Yuuri was slowly pushing in past the tight ring of muscle. Wolfram immediately gasped in discomfort – Yuuri was very different from just his fingers – his arms automatically flung around the other man's shoulders as Yuuri buried himself to the hilt.

"Y-Yuuri!" Wolfram cried out, tears prickled at his eyes. He had been able to take Yuuri's fingers, but they hadn't gone as deep as Yuuri's cock.

Yuuri shushed him. "Relax. Give yourself time to adjust."

Wolfram did so. He made every muscle in his body relax around Yuuri's length, within seconds the discomfort ceased and something warm and electric welled up inside him.

Wolfram's mind was gradually shutting down, he could feel it. His coherent thoughts were ebbing away and primitive instinct took over and he began to rock against Yuuri's pelvis as lust overcame him.

Yuuri buried his face in Wolfram's neck with a low groan as he pulled his hips back to slide halfway out and then slowly pushed back in. He built a slow pace to help Wolfram get acclimated, but he knew it wouldn't last. His own animal instincts were clawing at the surface of his psyche, demanding that he claim the lovely being beneath him and seal their bond for good with a hard thorough fucking. However, Yuuri needed to earn Wolfram's trust not just his lust, if he wanted full cooperation from him in their future, so he willed away the voice that wanted him to split Wolfram in half with his cock and he kept the pace steady.

Wolfram hummed pleasantly at the feel of Yuuri moving in and out of him. He liked the feel of his muscles tightening and stretching around Yuuri with every movement. A dull heat grew in his gut that quickly evolved into a searing heat that was growing increasingly vexed at Yuuri's sluggish pace. While he wanted Yuuri to go slow, such a need was steadily becoming unnecessary as his true nature made itself known. With a moan that could make a whore blush, Wolfram tightened his legs around Yuuri and used his tongue to guide Yuuri into a kiss that matched the speed that Wolfram craved.

Yuuri hadn't expected Wolfram to take initiative so quickly. It was enthralling to feel that little pink tongue glide along his jaw, coaxing him from his spot at Wolfram's neck, before sliding between his half-open lips. Yuuri growled appreciatively and sucked that sweet little appendage into his mouth, bobbing up and down much as he had done earlier on a different part of his lover. He heard Wolfram sigh and the blonde's tongue pushed deeper past his teeth to seduce its twin. Wolfram's tongue absently curved upward and brushed against the sensitive area of Yuuri's palate.

It was a simple flick of the tongue, a small little touch really. But Yuuri heightened senses against the already sensitive nerves of his palate made that simple gesture a huge turn on that made the last string of Yuuri's control snap and he slammed his hips into Wolfram with great force and speed.

Wolfram pulled away from Yuuri's mouth to cry out in pleasure when Yuuri's speed picked up. Bracing his shoulders against the pillow, Wolfram rocked his hips to meet Yuuri for every thrust, squeezing rhythmically around him every time he impaled Wolfram.

Yuuri smirked down at Wolfram and trust in at a new angle. The response was immediate. Wolfram threw his head back against the pillow and out right screamed when Yuuri hit his sweet spot dead on. The scream was like a signal for Yuuri, who immediately thrust even faster, hitting that spot each and every time, not wasting a single snap of his hips and indulging in his own pleasure.

"Yuuri!" Wolfram cried out, it was probably the only word he could speak clearly, other than "Please! More!"

"God, Wolf," Yuuri gasped. "You're so tight. So hot."

Wolfram only mewled and responded by lifting his hips higher.

What had started out as a gentle seduction quickly dissolved into senseless rutting. Yuuri was no longer concerned about ritual or gentleness, he was only concerned with burying his hard cock into Wolfram's tight, hot hole as many times as he could before he came undone. Wolfram, in turn, was rolling and rocking his hips to meet Yuuri's frantic thrusts, moaning his approval and clawing at sweaty shoulders, egging Yuuri on with licks and bites to his neck.

Moans and soft cries gave way to growls and hisses as their pace lost rhythm, teeth were bared in harsh snarls and what was left of Yuuri and Wolfram disappeared and was replaced by two lust-driven animals that only wanted one thing and that was sex. Yuuri's hips slammed against Wolfram's backside with inhuman speed while Wolfram clawed long red trails down Yuuri's back. Wolfram's own free cock was rubbed deliciously between their stomachs, coating them both in musky pre-come, nearly purple from the friction. A lone hand managed to snake its way between them to tug violently at the neglected organ, eliciting a husky shriek from its owner. The hand matched the speed of their hips, sending the submissive creature to a new plane of existence where nothing mattered but the sinfully delicious feel of his creator's touch.

Yuuri whispered something in his ear, a foreign language that Wolfram had never heard before and yet it seemed familiar to him. But he didn't have time to contemplate the arcane words before he reached his climax so suddenly that Wolfram's cry was just as much surprised, as it was ecstatic. He moaned loudly as the tremors coursed through his body from the bundle of nerves inside him to the tips of his toes and fingers curling against Yuuri's sweaty skin. Wolfram's cock exploded over Yuuri's twisting hand, coating it with his milky seed. Yuuri continued to thrust inside Wolfram, exploiting that sweet spot within until every last drop was milked from him. Yuuri gave a few hard thrusts and his own orgasm took him and he filled Wolfram's shivering body with his hot come and still he continued slowly thrusting until his last drop was spent.

Wolfram was basking in the feel of Yuuri's essence pouring inside him when it hit him like a ton of rocks being dropped on his head. A great energy ripped through his body, painfully tearing through his nerves and mixing with the pleasure of his orgasm into a feeling that went beyond and above description. Wolfram's mind went blank, he didn't see, he didn't hear, didn't feel anything but the powerful energy twisting and twining around his blackened soul, merging with him and giving him completion.

"Yuuri…what?" Wolfram said in fear as the energy enveloped him. He looked up at Yuuri for help, but the dark man's eyes were closed in concentration as he still rutted against Wolfram, cock still hard inside him as the energy flowed through him and into Wolfram's body.

Yuuri broke his trance long enough to smile comfortingly down at the frightened blonde. He stroked Wolfram's sweat-soaked hair affectionately as the torrential waves of power ebbed away as their bond was sealed.

'_Hush, it's going to be okay,'_ he heard Yuuri say, but the other man's mouth didn't move.

'_What is happening to me?'_ Wolfram thought frantically.

'_It's the bonding ritual,'_ Yuuri's voice reverberated inside Wolfram's skull. _'Our energies are combining into one. One mind, two bodies.'_

'_It feels strange.'_

'_It will be over soon. Just stay with me.'_

'_Always,'_ Wolfram thought lovingly. The foreign energy was already dissipating and a new life force warmed Wolfram's body and made him strangely sleepy.

'_So tired,'_

'_I know,'_ Yuuri's voice answered as his lips pressed a kiss to Wolfram's forehead.

Wolfram felt his consciousness slowly slip away as the high from his climax and the soothing flow of energy that now hummed within him lulled him to sleep.

'_I…want….sleep.'_

Yuuri kissed him. _'Stay with me, Wolfram.'_

'_I will…just let me sleep,'_ Wolfram's eyes slid shut. Yuuri voice echoed in his mind.

'_Stay with me,'_

'_Sleep…'_

'_Stay with me.'_

'_I will stay with you,'_

'_Yes…'_

* * * * * * * * * * * * YNH * * * * * * * * * * * *

Two days later, and he was just now regaining the last of his memories.

He was once a young Japanese boy from another world who was transported into this world and crowned the king. The blonde he resurrected was once his fiancé and lover. He caught a simple illness that killed him in his youth. That was all he had been able to discern from the fuzzy stream of images that visited him at night when he slept.

There were no emotions attached to the endless circus of images and sounds that permeated his psyche at all hours of the day and night. The endless faces registered no feeling whatsoever in him. He knew who they were – family, friends, retainers, enemies, and servants, They all had their own collection of memories associated within his former life, they were all greatly significant to who he was, but he felt nothing for them, save for the lovely creature that moved before him. Yuuri didn't even have a connection to his name. He only picked it because that's what Wolfram called him. He didn't care of his name was Julia, Julian, or Yuuri. It meant little to him, he only picked Yuuri because that's what Wolfram wanted, and Yuuri would give Wolfram anything he wanted, even his name.

Wolfram, his Wolfram, walked lazily in front of the cottage they had called home for the past week. It had been their prison, and their birth place, and now it was their retreat as Wolfram accustomed to his new body.

It had been a whim upon which Yuuri had resurrected his little friend. After his rebirth at the hands of Adelbert, Yuuri's mind had been nothing but a blank grey wall punctuated by the pain of Adelbert's unwanted advances. Over time though, that grey wall was slowly covered in images of his time in the cellar. He saw his first victim be devoured by the monster that he hosted, he saw victims two, three, four, five, and nine, before Wolfram's angelic face appeared in his mind and for the first time, a memory made him feel. He felt affection, fear, sadness, and pain with that single image of Wolfram's concerned face. He felt warmth, the first inkling of a feeling akin to love for the boy – when he wasn't lusting after him. Then he felt anger and a terrible need for revenge.

That was one of the first things he learned about their new selves. Their beings operated on sexual gratification. They took pleasure from it, comfort from it, and nourishment from it. They needed no food and very little sleep, only the energy from frequent couplings was needed to sustain them.

And sustain them it did. Wolfram only wore a long nightshirt due to the constant threat of Yuuri's sexual advances. His pants were an irritating inconvenience that was disposed of after the first night. Yuuri had no complaints about that, he could spend hours just staring at Wolfram's long smooth legs. Wolfram's legs were probably Yuuri's favorite asset on his little lover. They were slim, but strong, and there was nothing he enjoyed more than to have them wrapped around his waist at the apex of their rutting. He loved to run his hands along the soft skin stretched over taut muscles as he emptied his seed into Wolfram's waiting heat.

Yuuri growled quietly. He dreaded the day when they would have to leave their little home in the woods. A few of Wolfram's memories had returned and Yuuri learned that Wolfram had become the demon king after his death. Wolfram felt a need to return to their former home with its stone walls and various luxuries. He, unlike Yuuri, wanted to see the people attached to the nameless faces that haunted his dreams. He mentioned a daughter that he wanted to see soon and of course, Yuuri would indulge him.

Maybe it was because he had been dead for three years, maybe it was because the person he had been was farther removed from the….being he was now. The people and places were more distant from his heart, but for Wolfram, they were closer and held more meaning. Wolfram had a deeper connection to his former self than Yuuri did and maybe that was why he wanted to see and maybe reintegrate into his former life and relationships.

Yuuri held no such desire. He could easily continue to live here in the woods for the rest of his life. He didn't find the prospect of returning to the castle appealing. It just seemed like a mountain of responsibility they would have to endure when all he wanted was to have Wolfram at his side, ready to be ravished at his whim.

"Yuuri."

Yuuri broke out of his thoughts to watch Wolfram curiously poke at a pile of dirt just at the woods' edge. Wolfram prodded the up turned earth with a bare toe cautiously. He looked up at Yuuri questioningly.

Yuuri sauntered over to where Wolfram stood, following his gaze to look at the large pile of dirt at their feet.

"What's this?" Wolfram asked, poking at the pile of earth.

Yuuri briefly contemplated making something up, but Wolfram would remember sooner or later so he simply said the truth.

"A grave," he answered plainly, sniffing in disinterest. It was really three graves, but Yuri hadn't felt like digging three separate holes. They didn't deserve the dignity.

"Who was buried here?" Wolfram looked around the grave, looking for any indication of the identity within. But found none.

They didn't deserve that either.

"People," Yuuri reached out to grasp Wolfram's hand and lead him away from the crude burial. "Bad people who did us harm."

Wolfram looked disturbed. "What did they do to us?"

"They made us what we are now," Yuuri said dreamily as his mind drifted.

Wolfram was quiet for a moment and stared at the graves as they retreated back to their home. "What are we, Yuuri?"

Yuuri was silent. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure what they were now. Were they demons or humans or a different kind of demon or human? Were they something else entirely? Were they meant to exist?

In his haste to have Wolfram returned to him and Adelbert punished, Yuuri hadn't bothered to read the rest of the book. It wasn't as if he could. The language of the text was ancient and dead, Yuuri had only the pictures, diagrams, and the memories of the ceremony to go by. It was a huge gamble and he could have gotten himself killed, but if there was one thing he learned from his former self, it was that he had unnatural good fortune.

He suddenly felt a tinge of regret. In order to protect others and stifle any future attempts at the Dark Arts, Yuuri had burned the spell book. The book contained dark secrets and forbidden powers that no demon or human should ever possess and trifle with. He had no idea what other spells the book contained or their consequences. It was because he was unsure of what he and Wolfram were that he burned the book. He didn't know if they were dangerous or not. If they were, he certainly didn't want anymore of their kind o be made. So he destroyed the book.

He shrugged it off. There were more than likely other books, other necromancers out there that would know what they were. He wondered if the Sage – Murata, was it? – would know anything. The trip back to the castle suddenly held appeal to Yuuri. While Wolfram visited his former family, Yuuri could find out the truth of their identity.

"I don't know, Wolf," Yuuri replied at last after a long silence. "I just know what we're not."

Wolfram looked confused. "What are we not?"

"We're not of this world," Yuuri said as he opened the door to their little house and led Wolfram up to their room. He could think better after he had sex.

Wolfram seemed to realize where Yuuri was taking him and what that meant. He leaned into Yuuri, who placed an arm around his shoulder and kissed his dark lover's cheek.

"How are we not of this world?" Wolfram whispered against Yuuri's chin.

"We are monsters, Wolfram," Yuuri said. It was the only thing he could think to call them. "We are cursed."

* * * * * * * * * * * * YNH * * * * * * * * * * * *

Whew! The final chapter is done!

This is actually the first multi-chaptered fic I've ever finished (the two shot doesn't really count).

I certainly hoped you all enjoyed this story. I had a great time writing it for you. Your reviews and encouragement were a huge motivation for me and I appreciate all of you who took the time to leave your comments. They really do matter!

And with that, I must say arriverderci! I am going to be abroad in Italy for three months and I'm not sure if I'll have time to work on my other stories. I may not post them, but I will certainly continue to write so I can just update all of them when I get back. So, please, don't forget THYS and be on the lookout for some new stories that have been floating around in my computer for a while. Thank you so much and best wishes!

ElisiansBane


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